


Tell Me Something I Don't Already Know

by dumpling23



Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: F/F, Fluff, I love them both, Praise Kink, and christen is the epitome of bottom energy, and the entire team, but i love her more than life itself, christen anger-cries, christen is obviously gey, christen is the underdog, haha did u get it, i cannot write dirty scenes, im gonna miss the 23 best friends era, it gets spicy later on, so just bear with me, soft, tobin is the topdog, ya know bc tobin is a top
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-15
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:48:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 44,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22269682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dumpling23/pseuds/dumpling23
Summary: CHRISTEN PRESS is just settling into her permanent position on the USWNT, and TOBIN HEATH has not made it any easier for her. Ever since her first cap, Christen and Tobin have been fighting for the same spots on the starting XI as forwards. Christen is determined to be a starter, but it seems like Tobin is just out of reach. As their heated arguments become known to the coaches and the rest of the team, Christen reaches a boiling point, and forces herself to share her feelings with Tobin. But surprisingly, Tobin proves herself to be more vulnerable, and Christen feels more conflicted than she's ever felt.
Relationships: Tobin Heath/Christen Press
Comments: 170
Kudos: 751





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is told mostly in Christen's POV, with glimpses of Tobin's along the way. The title comes from a Harry Styles song, "Ever Since New York." Also, the majority of the fic takes place in 2016, which will become a relevant point later on, timeline-wise. Enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter occurs in August 2007, a week into Christen's first year at Stanford University. 
> 
> There will be a major nine-year time jump after this chapter oop.
> 
> Hope you all like it!

“COME ON, LOOSEN UP, PRESS.” Kelley O’Hara forced her teammate’s shoulders into relaxing. Christen didn’t know how or why she’d wound up at a big dirty frat party within her first week of college. She hated parties. They felt wrong. “It’s just one shot.”

_It’s just one shot_. Those four words rang in Christen’s ears. She knew it was wrong. Drinking was bad. Drinking underage was worse. She’d never drank before, not even in high school. She barely went to parties in the first place, and she wouldn’t let anything as stupid as drinking at some party jeopardize her chances of getting into Stanford. 

But now, here she was. Stanford. And all of a sudden, Christen found a shot glass in her hand, courtesy Kelley, and now, three more teammates with their eyes on her.

A sip. She took a sip. It was maybe a teaspoon’s worth of Patron. Christen’s stomach churned with regret and uneasiness. The liquid was sweet, sickly sweet, and her throat burned. Kelley grinned as Christen winced, fighting back coughs. “Yeah, there you go! Good girl.”

Something about her older teammate’s approval excited her. And with the pressuring eyes of her seniors on her, Christen did something she’d rarely done before: she threw caution to the wind. With her teammates watching her, she drained the rest of her glass in seconds. 

Christen’s heart raced, and she didn’t know if it was from the alcohol or the cheers from her teammates. It felt good. She wanted more. She craved more.

Soon enough, Christen was three, four, five shots deep and people started to gather around her. It was an intense rhythm, the pace she was going at. It reminded her of how she took 100 shots with each foot every day in high school. 

She was the spectacle of the party now, the unassuming soccer freshman who could down tequila shots like she’d been doing it her whole life. Kelley began stacking Christen’s empty shot glasses like a pyramid. The cheers grew.

“Hell yeah, you show ‘em, Press!”

“Damn, look at this chick! Look at her go!”

“Chris-ten, Chris-ten, Chris-ten!” Kelley topped off the pyramid after Christen had drank six shots’ worth. People were still cheering, yet Kelley’s concern grew as Christen shakily reached for her seventh. She grabbed Christen’s wrist and murmured in her ear, “Hey, slow down, champ.”

Christen yanked her wrist away and took the glass. “Christen, what are you doing?”

It was then when Kelley realized that as long as someone kept filling up glasses, Christen would not stop. That was the kind of person Christen was. It was how she played. It was how she lived her life.

“Shut up, Kelley.” As much as her body was rejecting it, Christen wanted to hear all the people chanting her name. It was addictive. It was a rush so similar to scoring a goal in the 89th minute, or just edging past an especially tough defender with a practically wide open goal. She felt the rush of adrenaline and the pure exhilaration deep into her bones.

“No, Christen, I can’t let you do this. We have practice tomorrow. This was a mistake.”

Kelley could barely manage to drag Christen outside and away from the crowd before she threw up all six of the shots she’d just drink into the bushes outside the frat house. 

As Kelley helped Christen get back to her dorm, Christen felt the lingering thrill of her older peers’ praise, hearing her name chanted over and over again in her mind.

She wanted to feel that way all the time. Something about it set her off. It drove her wild.


	2. Not Thinkin' Bout You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title is a song of Ruel's that I really enjoy. Each chapter title will be the name of a song that I love, or a line from a song that speaks to me (and I'll try to make them relevant to the content in the chapter but no promises).
> 
> BTW they're in 2016 now. This is the start of the actual fic. 
> 
> Anyway, here goes. I hope you all like it!

CHRISTEN HAD NEVER BEEN A FAN OF TOBIN HEATH'S. Even though they were the same age, Tobin had five more years of USWNT experience on her, not to mention her undeniable natural talent and skill. They often fought for the same spots on the starting XI. Christen always felt a need to prove herself to the coaches and her teammates when pitted against Tobin.

The only thing the two seemed to have in common was their position — forward — but Christen and Tobin played almost completely differently, like night and day. Christen was all about speed. Tobin was all about technique. Tobin was consistent. Christen had heard time and time again that she was not. 

She often wondered how consistency came so easily to Tobin. Tobin could execute even the most complex dodges so smoothly, it was almost like she didn’t even need to think about them. Christen, on the other hand, had a problem with thinking. She overthought. A lot. So much that it messed with her game. And Christen didn’t know how to stop it.

She’d started to meditate daily, but whenever Christen tried to focus on herself, her mind was always brought back to Tobin Heath. How Christen’s today would always be Tobin’s yesterday. How she was always one step behind Tobin, and Christen could never seem to keep up. Her legs could, sure, but her mind couldn’t. Tobin was this incredible mystery that Christen was desperate to solve.

And it frustrated the hell out of her.

And when Jill wrote in another team-building event on the calendar, Christen was thoroughly annoyed. She was more of a lone wolf type. When she did spend time with her teammates, she liked to hang out with Kelley or Becky, but instead, she'd be grouped together with Tobin and the rest of the forwards, all of whom happened to be the most famous members of the team.

Christen found them all highly intimidating for different reasons. She felt like she couldn't compare.

Megan Rapinoe. Where to start with her? So much confidence, so much swagger. Megan was the coolest person Christen had ever met. Jill had told Christen that if she had just a quarter of the confidence Pinoe had, Christen could become the next Abby Wambach. But the biggest difference between Christen Press and Megan Rapinoe was that Megan wasn't afraid to finish the job. Christen was too timid to shoot most of the time, and whenever she had just a sliver of a chance to shoot, she would almost always choose to pass instead.

Alex Morgan. To be completely honest, Christen had spent far too much time wishing she was as pretty as Alex Morgan. But Alex, like Pinoe, knew herself. She knew herself so well, and she knew her place, and her timing was impeccable. She was always in the right place at the right time. She was a smart player. Alex was also used to the pressure. Everyone always had eyes on her, but she liked it. Alex thrived on attention.

Carli Lloyd. CL10. Carli had been appointed captain last year and hadn't looked back, and everyone, despite their jealousy, admitted that it was well-deserved. She'd been playing on the WNT since Christen was in high school. Carli somehow outgrew her reputation as an inconsistent player, and Christen desperately wanted to know just how she did it. The Carli that Christen knew was so controlled, so focused. She'd never seen Carli panic once. 

Then there was Mallory Pugh, the 17-year-old rookie. Mal was the only forward that Christen was confident that she was better than, but it wasn't saying a lot, considering that Mal was an entire ten years younger than her. Mallory was incredibly talented, and had no trouble finding her place in the squad. She was social and friendly; she'd made closer friends in her first few months as a WNT player than Christen had her entire career. Everybody loved Baby Mal. You couldn't resist her charms. It was impossible. 

Team-building events always stressed the hell out of Christen. She didn't fit in with the rest of her group, as much as Megan or Alex would try to force it. Tobin was moody and antisocial during these kinds of activities — which, yes, defeated the purpose of having them in the first place — and her attitude always seemed to put a damper on things. The forwards, as a group, didn't click. They all had strong personalities, with the exception of Christen.

"So, forwards. What should we do for our team-building activity?" Megan asked.

"I guess drinking's out of the question for you guys. Suckas," Ashlyn teased as she walked past. Christen sometimes wished she was a goalie. There were fewer of them to interact with, and they were all nice. It was just Ashlyn, Alyssa, and Hope. It would be a totally stress-free situation with them.

"Just you wait until I tell Jill and Ali," Megan called after her. "I'm sure they'd love to hear that!"

"How about an Escape the Room thing?" Carli offered, bringing the focus back to the task. "Those are super cool, and I don't think any of us have ever done one before." Carli loved to speak for the group, and it was especially annoying when she was right.

An Escape the Room sounded terrible to Christen. Being stuck with three of the most intimidating women in the world and a 17-year-old whiz kid in a tiny, locked room for an hour sounded like a claustrophobic nightmare. But since everyone seemed to agree, Christen decided to suck it up and nod along with their plan. 

A WEEK LATER, the forwards found themselves at the Escape the Room site. Christen was already feeling anxious.

"You nervous, Press?" She heard someone ask in a judgmental voice. She spun around. It was Tobin.

"Hm? Oh, no, not... not really," Christen responded through an unconvincing laugh. She wondered if Tobin was a mind-reader. 

"This should be a breeze for you, Little Miss Stanford," Tobin remarked before walking away. Christen frowned. It was unlike Tobin to use Christen's alma mater against her. But then again, Christen never knew what to expect from Tobin. 

"Are these hard?" Mal asked to no one in particular. "Like, on a scale of 1-10, how difficult is this room?"

"Are you worried, too?" Christen wondered, making an attempt at conversation with her newest teammate. 

"Nah, not really. I just think that people should remember that I'm not even a high school graduate. So it's not my fault if I'm not helpful." Mal smiled at Christen before leaning in and reminding her in a low voice, "You know, Christen, they... they let you out... even if you don't complete the room."

"Yeah, I know that," Christen replied defensively. "It's just going to be really chaotic in there in like, five minutes. I'm mentally preparing."

"Sounds good." The Escape the Room worker unlocked the room and let them inside. Christen already felt uncomfortable as the door closed and locked shut.

Alex, Carli, and Pinoe jumped right to the clues. Mal peered over their shoulders as they worked — which, naturally, was difficult for her, being five-foot-four — yet tried to help them regardless. Tobin halfheartedly looked on for a few minutes, but then sat down on a bench toward the back of the room. Christen knew Tobin didn't like figuring things out; she liked things to be straightforward. Formulaic. 

Christen chimed in here and there with ideas, but Alex and Pinoe proved to be the most effective, and Carli was thrilled her activity was working out. The three were shouting over each other and laughing and having fun. 

Christen went to sit down and immediately realized she'd made a mistake. She was sitting on Tobin's lap.

"Oh, my gosh. I'm so sorry," Christen said quickly. Tobin just looked startled for a moment, her face turning red, but then went back to her neutral, unbothered expression. Christen felt her face becoming hot. She hated embarrassing herself in front of Tobin, but strangely, Tobin didn't have a snappy comeback this time.

"It's... it's fine. You're good." Tobin awkwardly took off her snapback hat and smoothed the hair at the top of her head before putting it back on.

Christen very deliberately took a seat next to Tobin and shot a warning look at Mal as she caught her laughing. Mal stopped. Christen muttered to Tobin, "Would you stop sulking for once and enjoy yourself?"

Tobin took a deep sigh and crossed her arms without a word.

"Okay, then. I guess that means no. Jeez."

WHAT CHRISTEN DIDN'T CATCH was Tobin staring at Christen's hands folded neatly in her lap. Tobin was obsessed with those hands. Obsessed with her. And God, she was so nervous. Christen always made her nervous. But now she was sitting next to her, and it felt unreal. Tobin's pulse raced, yet she was determined as ever to keep her cool.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last paragraph was the first bit of Tobin's POV :)
> 
> I'm not planning on writing her thoughts in a lot but I just wanted to spice it up


	3. I See You Loving on the Sidelines (I Think about it at the Wrong Times)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title song lyric of this chapter is "Sidelines" by Wallows (it's a jam go check it outttt)
> 
> Thank you all so much for the support <3 (and I'm very sorry about that long wait between chapters!!!!)
> 
> Hope you like these scenes!

OLYMPIC TRAINING WAS PAST INTENSE, and tensions between Tobin and Christen were running high as ever. When split into groups by position, it seemed that Tobin made it her mission to correct Christen's every wrong move.

"You don't need to put curve on it like that. A straight, powerful shot would've been fine," Tobin murmured as she saw Christen's shot being scooped up by Alyssa.

"C'mon, Press! Go through the legs! Think with your head!"

"Hey now, not too deep. Not if we want this pass to connect, that is."

More than the corrections, though, Christen hated that Tobin was usually right. But she would never admit that, though. She didn't need someone else to think for her.

Christen didn't have the guts to do the same to Tobin, or even defend herself. Christen would usually just lower her eyes and nod, accepting defeat. But what drove Christen crazy was that no one else seemed to notice how she was constantly getting scolded by Tobin. Christen would sometimes look around after a particularly harsh comment and think, _How the hell did no one hear that? Is it just me?_

Tobin made her comments so slick that looking for sympathy was out of the question.

Christen was truly stuck.

Toward the end of practice, Jill let the team have some fun with an eleven-on-eleven scrimmage. The catch was, _she_ chose the teams.

(If Christen were to have it her way, the forwards would be her, Mal, and Pinoe, the middies would be JJ, Moe, and Lindsey, and the defensive line would be Becky, Kelley, Ali, and Crystal. With any luck, Hope would be their goalie.)

Christen wasn't so fortunate this time around. She let out a listless sigh as Jill announced that she and Tobin would be on the same team.

There was a bright side, though: Mal was also named to their team. Mal was always the bright side. It was hard to be upset about teams when _the_ Baby Mal was on your team.

Tobin took it upon herself to become the acting captain of their scrimmage team. She called everyone into a huddle, and Christen unenthusiastically obliged. After a quick 30-second monologue about strategies and the like, Tobin broke the huddle and pulled Press aside for a signature Tobin Heath mini-lecture.

Christen was bothered by it, but obviously, not shocked.

"Hey, Press. Keep your head on straight, okay? I don't want you missing out on any chances. If you see an opening, go for it. Don't hesitate. I know that's what you love to do." Christen just pursed her lips and nodded as Tobin walked away laughing at the joke she'd made at Christen's expense. Did no one else notice how Tobin would single her out like this?

THE GAME BEGAN and the players were as fierce as ever. Both sides were evenly matched, of course; it was a close fight.

It wasn't too long until Christen's team was close to goal, though. They were hungry for the win.

But one misstep from Sonnett on the opposing team led to a corner kick, and Tobin was appointed to take it. The rest of the team arranged themselves in a formation that would be to Tobin's liking. Since when did meeting Tobin's standards become so important?

After a deep breath, Tobin sent a soaring kick right to the middle. Christen saw her opportunity, just like Tobin had instructed, and jumped up for the header.

But she’d jumped too high, and the ball hit her squarely on the bridge of her nose. The goal went in, at least — she’d gotten some satisfaction — but she dropped to her knees and clutched her bleeding nose. All play stopped.

Tobin, for some reason, was the first to rush over and check on her.

“Oh, my God, Christen. I am so sorry,” Tobin said quickly, meeting Christen’s eyes as she knelt down in front of her. Tobin reached out to rub Christen’s shoulder.

“I don’t want to hear it from you,” Christen said, swatting at Tobin’s hand. Tobin retreated.

“It’s my fault. Too much spin,” Tobin said.

“No, no. I was too eager.” Christen coughed out blood and wiped her mouth with the hem of her shirt. “I jumped too high.” Jill was calling for medical assistance on the sidelines. The rest of the players formed a huddle around Press. Yet Tobin refused to move.

“Hey, you made it in, though. Not a total loss.”

“Thanks, Tobin. Appreciate it.” Blood dripped down Christen’s hands.

“You know I didn’t mean it like—”

“Oh, sure, you didn’t.” Christen calmly stood up and walked away from Tobin to the sidelines and Mal was subbed in.

Even as Christen sat down, she noticed Tobin’s unwavering gaze at her. Christen gave her a halfhearted thumbs-up as Jill restarted gameplay.

Having to sit out had its perks, though. As soon as Christen was able to reassure Jill and the medic that she would be fine, and the medic informed Christen that her nose was not broken, Christen had a perfect view of the game. There was very little that excited Christen more than watching the beautiful game. Aside from playing it, of course.

Christen tried her best not to pout as she watched her teammates scrimmage. She brushed off her grass-stained knees and smugly thought to herself, _Tobin's damn lucky I went for it. Jill would've had her head if no one got to it._

As much as Christen didn't want to believe it, she couldn't shake the feeling that Tobin's corner kick was an intentional offense. Sure, Christen took the header wrong, but anyone in their right mind wouldn't have made a corner kick that powerful. Frankly, Tobin was lucky that Jill didn't call her out on it. If it were even a few inches higher, the ball probably would have made its way across the width of the pitch.

"HEY, PRESS. I'M SORRY. REALLY," Tobin called as she jogged over to where Christen was sitting. Practice was over. Christen was satisfied that Tobin's team had lost, 1-2, and that the sole goal had been scored by her, even if at the expense of her nose. As she neared, Tobin leaned in towards Christen to check the damage she'd done, and asked, "You okay?"

"Oh, yeah. Better than ever," Christen snapped in a tone even she would admit was too bitter. Tobin recoiled.

"I really didn't mean anything by it. If you want I can—"

"Let her be, Tobin," Mal said firmly as she approached them. "She's clearly not in the mood to talk to you right now." Mal raised an eyebrow at Tobin, and Tobin retreated. Mal sat down next to Christen.

"Thank you," Christen whispered to Mal. Mal just smiled to herself.

"She was upset about it for the rest of the match, you know," Mal finally said, breaking their comfortable silence.

"Why, because my nose wasn't broken, just bleeding?"

"Press, she cares about you. She feels really bad, seriously," Mal insisted. She looked up at Christen, who scoffed.

"'Cares about me' my ass. _She_ cares about _me_? Mal, honestly, that sounds a little ridiculous." More than a little. _Very_ ridiculous.

"Yeah, well, I'm just a teenager. What do I know, right?" Mal shook her head and took a sip of water before adding prophetically—

"But I think you'd be surprised."

Mal stood up and stretched her legs out, and Christen watched her walk away to join Sonnett and Lindsey. She thought it was cute, how Mal was trying to give her all this wise advice, but Tobin caring about her? _Sure_ , she said to herself, _when pigs fly_.

Kelley came over and helped Christen out of her chair. Together, they walked to the locker room. 

"I'm not dying, Kel." Christen said as Kelley draped Christen's arm over her shoulders.

"All I'm saying is, it looked pretty rough. How are you doing, though, really?"

"Seriously, Kelley, I'm fine. It's just bruised. All good." Kelley stopped and looked at Christen dead in the eyes, knowing that Christen had more to share. Kelley raised her eyebrows, and Christen reluctantly continued.

"I... I don't know. It really seemed to me like Tobin... God, this sounds _so_ stupid, but I feel like she did it... you know... on purpose," Christen admitted in a low voice.

Kelley chewed on the inside of her cheek as they kept walking, unsure of how to respond. She _knew_ Tobin didn't mean it. Did Christen really not see that Tobin Heath was totally off her game for almost an entire hour? Tobin must've felt awful.

"Press..." Kelley began thoughtfully. She cleared her throat. 

"Yeah?" Christen and Kelley paused for a moment on the field.

Kelley decided it wasn't her place to deliver the news, so she would just hint at it. "I dunno, I guess I never pegged you for the suspicious type. That's all." 

Christen frowned as she heard this, yet another vague comment. Kelley was _always_ on her side. Not only her, but Mal, too?

 _Is there something I'm missing here?_ Christen couldn't help but wonder to herself.

WHEN KELLEY AND CHRISTEN ENTERED THE LOCKER ROOM TOGETHER, their teammates immediately crowded around Christen to comfort her. She could definitely feel her cheekbones swelling, and her nose hurt like hell, but other than that, she was completely fine.

She was just shaken up.

"Oh, poor baby," Ashlyn said as she came closer. "I knew there was a good reason to let that ball through."

"You didn't 'let it through,' Ash, she _scored_ ," retorted Tobin as she shut her locker. Ali put a restraining hand on Ashlyn's back so that she wouldn't full-on attack Tobin. Tobin knew better than to insult Ashlyn's keeping skills. It was pretty low of her.

"Dude, you have blood, like, all over your shirt. Let's get you changed," Megan said. Christen looked down at herself and realized Pinoe was right. She looked like a mess.

"Guys, I'm not a little kid. Really, I'm fine," Christen exclaimed indignantly, but then winced. Megan shook her head. "This won't do. Let's go."

"Stop resisting help, Christen. Come on," Mal said, tugging at the collar of Christen's shirt. "This is gross."

As Mal helped Christen undress, Christen couldn't get rid of this distinct, rotten feeling of Tobin's eyes on her. From the corner of her eye, she saw Tobin staring at her, appraising her, looking her over. It was crazy irritating, and Christen was past fed up with her. She'd gotten her dose of Tobin Heath for the day. Possibly for the rest of camp.

 _Tobin's not sorry_ , Christen thought to herself as Mal helped her slip her hoodie on. Minutes later, Tobin refused break her gaze, but Christen was in no mood to back down.

"The hell are you looking at, Heath?" Christen finally called across the locker room. Everyone's eyes shifted to where Tobin was standing. More like lurking, really. Tobin just turned away sheepishly and wordlessly took off to the showers.

Despite the pain, Christen didn't bother to suppress a grin. 

The girls helped Christen wash her face off and retrieved new ice for her. This was what Christen loved the most about the team: whenever someone was hurt, everyone would join forces to pitch in and help. Their team bond was beyond material value. It went deeper than that.

It was nice to feel like everyone — with the obvious exception of one Tobin Heath — was on her side.


	4. Only Fools Fall for You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title lyric of this chapter is from "FOOLS" by Troye Sivan (who is one of my fav artists of this generation, the first singer I ever really loved, such a beautiful voice and aesthetic, pls go stream him he is so underrated)
> 
> The first bit is in Tobin's POV since you all liked it so much. A treat just for you guys haha ;)
> 
> Also, of course, thank you all so so so much for the positive comments!!!! <3
> 
> *takes a deep calming breath to make sure I don't get too ahead of myself*
> 
> Now, back to the story...

TOBIN RAN AROUND THE PERIMETER OF THE PITCH 12 WHOLE TIMES THAT MORNING BEFORE PRACTICE. Almost a full 5k. She could barely sleep at all last night, and everyone knew that she was not an early riser; her run that morning was fueled purely by guilt and embarrassment.

As much as Tobin hated running, she always ran when she had something on her mind, when something was eating her up inside. Or wanted to punish herself. Today, it was both. How could she have fucked up her corner kick so badly, so badly that Christen got seriously hurt?

She wished Christen would just punch her in the face. Or something like that.

Just to make it even, at the very least.

 _God, Tobin, you are such a freaking idiot_ , she couldn't help but think to herself as she lay awake in bed.

_If you ruined that perfect nose, that perfect face..._

CHRISTEN AWOKE THAT MORNING WISHING SHE HADN'T. As soon as she heard the first trill of her alarm, she could feel her ridiculously swollen eyes and cheekbones. She groaned as she leaned forward to paw around in her backpack for Advil.

Christen drowsily shuffled to the bathroom. She looked in the mirror and was immediately stung with regret. She looked dreadful. She couldn't bear to see Jill or her teammates when she was looking like this. Her stomach sank as she thought about facing Alex, and Carli, and the worst of all, Tobin. She wondered if Tobin would laugh. It wouldn't surprise her if she did.

She FaceTimed Crystal. It was the only thing she could do. She knew she would have to get to the bus to be shuttled to camp, but since Jill liked Crystal so much, and Crystal was so good at persuading her, Christen might just have an out this time. Just for today.

Crystal picked up, thankfully, but she was sure as hell not happy about it. "Jesus, Christen. You look like you're deathly allergic to soccer balls. Go get a Benadryl or something."

"Thank you, Crystal," Christen said through a grimace. "I was wondering if you could do me a favor."

"Yeah? What's up?" Crystal asked as she rubbed her eyes over video.

"Could you—" Christen played with the strings of her hoodie meekly, avoiding eye contact with her teammate. "Could you tell Jill I can't make it to practice today? Please?"

"Christen..." Crystal began as she shook her head. "Come on, babe, you know Jill is going to be pissed."

"But I look awful, and I feel awful, and I—"

"You don't want to face Tobin." Christen looked up from her fingers and her hoodie strings. Crystal grinned knowingly.

"Look, I get it. She's a hell of a player, and for some crazy reason, you think that she just has it out for you or something—"

"She does!" Christen interjected, her tone far too loud and insistent for seven o'clock in the morning. 

"Christen, you're totally blowing this whole thing out of proportion. You're gorgeous as ever, just a little puffy. I was just messing with you. Also, doesn't this whole fiasco just prove that Tobin isn't all that? I mean, _she_ screwed up, didn't she?" Christen nodded slowly. "And you scored! Don't you forget it!"

"I don't know what there is to be afraid of, that's all. So, no. I'm not going to tell Jill you can't make it to practice. Because you will be at the bus, on time, looking like that, and I promise, Tobin will not say _anything_ about it. Okay?"

"Ugh, but Crystal, could you please, just this once—"

"You're going to say 'okay' with me and you're going to like it. 1, 2, 3..."

"Okay," Christen said with a sigh. "I'll talk to you soon."

AS CHRISTEN ARRIVED AT THE BUS, her teammates fell silent. She could feel her cheeks reddening with embarrassment. 

"Oh, God, you don't look too good," Mal pointed out. Crystal punched her in the arm, but Christen didn't have the energy to respond. She was too nervous to face Tobin. 

"Where's Tobin?" Christen wondered aloud.

"We think she left earlier this morning. Don't really know why," Carli supplied on behalf of the others. Christen let out a sigh of relief as she wouldn't have to face Tobin for the next 20 minutes or so. 

"Press, you can sit next to me today," Alex offered, patting her on the back. Christen didn't know how to turn her down.

Sitting next to Alex Morgan on the bus did not boost Christen's self-esteem in the slightest. She was always a little timid around Alex, mostly because of her striking attractiveness and crowd-pleasing personality, and it was even worse now that Christen had gotten her shit kicked in by a stupid Tobin corner kick. But Alex was fine. She said nothing about Christen's face. She was silent almost the whole time, texting her husband.

Seeing Alex texting Servando made Christen wish she was still with Max. 

Max Nagard was the perfect Swedish boyfriend: impossibly handsome, almost a foot taller than her, so damn into her, great in bed, and spoke perfect, unaccented English. She still thought about him often. She thought about the way he made her feel. Those two years with him were a whirlwind. She never thought she'd have a sweep-her-off-her-feet romance in her life, but with Max, she got that.

It really was a fairytale.

And she wondered what made her turn down his proposal that day.

They'd lost contact since, even though they'd promised to keep in touch. But it'd been almost two years since she'd seen him, two years since they'd held each other close—

_Two years since she'd had sex..._

The abrupt braking of the bus jostled her from her daydreams. Christen blinked her eyes a few times to wake herself up from her reverie.

He was not coming back.

She should move the fuck on.

TOBIN WAS SOMEHOW ALREADY SWEATING AS THE TEAM WARMED UP. The bags under her eyes were noticeably heavy, which delighted Christen. To think that _the_ Tobin Heath lost sleep over her was an outlandish idea, but it seemed that it was the case. Tobin wasn't energetic like usual, she was just going through the motions. Her lack of effort was visible.

And even though Crystal was right — Tobin didn't say anything mean to her this morning — she annoyingly couldn't stop staring at Christen's fucked-up face. 

After warm-ups, Jill pulled Christen aside. Christen's pulse sped up. Talking to Jill always made her anxious.

"Christen, Christen..." Jill murmured as she sifted through the papers on her clipboard.

"Here's the deal. You will not play for the rest of camp. You will train in the weight room instead."

Christen's throat tightened. She internally braced for the impact of Jill's blow.

"However, you _will_ still play the Olympics. I know it's only a couple months away, but..." Jill sighed, running her hand through her hair. "You're ready for it. You already have the skills, the refinement, everything. Now we're playing a game of preservation: can you hold on to this strength you have right now? This endurance?"

"Yes, Coach, of course," Christen said quickly, the words falling out of her mouth. She was incredibly pleased. She was so glad Tobin's crazy kick hadn't jeopardized her first Olympic appearance. "I promise you, I won't let you down."

"That's my girl," Jill said as she tapped Christen on the shoulder lightly. Christen began to feel warm inside, in the pit of her stomach. Having Jill think of her as her own was such a privilege, and hearing her affirmations always made Christen feel so damn good. 

_Bring it on, Tobin Heath_ , Christen thought to herself with newfound confidence, _just try and stop me._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know, I know.
> 
> Most other fics write Christen as straight-up gay. A useless lesbian.  
> (And believe you me, I have nothing against that.)
> 
> I just thought it would be interesting to experiment with Christen's character on my own a little bit: what if she were a chaotic bisexual? How would that affect her outlook on romance/life/etc.?
> 
> Hope you guys aren't too upset at me for it.
> 
> Xoxo,  
> Your dumpling :)


	5. You Know I Talk Too Much (We Can Blame It All on Human Nature)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title lyric of the chapter is from "Talk Too Much" by COIN. An entire banger. Go stream it, kids.
> 
> Okay, yes. I realize my last chapter was short. And that there's been a bit of a wait between chapters...
> 
> But I've just been working on transitioning to the actual 2016 Rio Olympics.  
> So I've sped up the timeline a bit. It is now late July 2016, just a week or so before the Olympics begin.  
>    
> As always, thank you for the support, it is very much appreciated!!!! <3
> 
> This is a nice loooooong *juicy* chapter, just for you guys.  
> Here we go... :)))

THE DAYS LEADING UP TO THE OLYMPICS WERE NERVE-WRACKING. Christen could feel herself getting more and more anxious, but also more and more excited. She'd never been to Brazil before. She never thought she'd be playing at this level, with these people, in the freaking Olympics, for God's sakes.

She'd made it.

On the long plane ride over, she'd sat next to Mal, which furthered her excitement. It was adorable how Mal would swing her feet back and forth childishly while talking about high school and her friends. It was nice to be experiencing her first Olympics with someone so positive and so youthful. She and Mal had similar mindsets going into the Olympics: gratitude comes first, focus comes second. It was important for them to remember their beginnings.

Christen looked over across the aisle and saw Tobin asleep, not surprisingly. This was Tobin's third rodeo: 2008 in Beijing, 2012 in London, now 2016 in Rio. She'd figured Tobin had lost interest in the Olympics altogether. It was no big deal to her. It bothered Christen how Tobin had her first Olympic gold under her belt at age 20, and that Christen was 27.

Tobin was still in college when she made her first Olympic appearance.

Christen had just celebrated her fifth-year college reunion.

"No sense in comparing yourself to her, Christen," she heard someone say in the seat behind her. Christen turned around.

It was Pinoe.

Was Pinoe a mind-reader?

"I can see you looking at her. Pitting yourself against her. You gotta remember you're entirely different people. You play differently."

"Yeah, I know that," Christen replied, looking at Pinoe through the crack between Mal's and her seat. 

"If you know that, then why do you keep questioning yourself? Just go out there and play the beautiful game. It's what you do best. It's what you love. Let yourself go, for once. Jesus Christ, you're always wound up tighter than a violin string," Pinoe pointed out.

"Once you finally can just accept yourself for not only your strengths, but your weaknesses, you're able to just... I don't know how to describe it. You can really just enjoy yourself and enjoy the moment. You feel so... _alive_. I can't wait for you to get to that point in your career. You'll just reach a whole other level."

"What if we don't win?" Christen worried aloud. "Or don't even medal?"

"Well, if that happens — and I don't think it will, because we're badasses and we are going to knock this out of the fucking park — trust me, 2020's a sure bet for you. I just know it. Okay?" Megan settled in her chair and closed her eyes. "Now go get some sleep. Training starts tomorrow, you know."

"I know. Thanks, Megs." Christen sighed uneasily, but took to Megan's suggestion and tried to get some rest. 

ALMOST AS SOON AS THEIR PLANE TOUCHED DOWN, Jill had the team at work. The merciless heat and humidity of southern Brazil was precedented, of course, but Christen was poorly prepared for it, having played in Chicago for the past couple of years, and in Sweden before that. She had to work extra hard to acclimate herself.

Which, unfortunately, meant a lot of hard work. And a lot of sweat.

"I swear to God, I am dying out here. Talk about this heat," Christen muttered to herself during a water break.

"Yeah, you're not the only one," Tobin chimed in as she wiped her sweat from her forehead with the bottom of her shirt. Christen made the mistake of looking down at Tobin's abs.

It was so annoying that Tobin had a perfect soccer build. It reminded Christen that she was pretty much just bones.

The energy between her and Tobin since the incident was turbulent. The frequency of Tobin's critiques decreased, and they hadn't discussed the situation since. They kept their distance from each other whenever possible. This was one of Tobin's few attempts at an amicable relationship with her teammate.

Christen just ignored her and walked away.

She wasn't ready to talk to Tobin yet; especially not while looking like this. Disheveled, dehydrated, _and_ jet-lagged?

No way. 

After an hour and a half, it became clear to Jill that training wasn't getting through to any of them. Everyone was exhausted, so she made the executive decision to call practice off a half hour early. 

"You all can check into your rooms at the hotel," she'd told them, "but meet up in the conference room at 4:30 to talk strategy. Don't be late."

Jill rarely let them catch a break, and it was even more shocking that she would do this so close to game day. But there were no complaints from the team, and they were all shuttled to the hotel promptly.

All of them except Tobin.

As Christen walked off toward the locker room, she overheard Tobin pulling Jill aside.

"Hey, Coach. Is it cool if I finish up the rest of practice?" Christen rolled her eyes. This was so Tobin. If it were any other player, Christen would've joined in, but today's heat in combination with Tobin would be unbearable. She imagined training one-on-one with Tobin and almost gagged.

Basically, a living Hell.

A literal, actual nightmare. 

She'd rather get suspended than train one-on-one with Tobin and no coaching staff.

DESPITE BEING EXHAUSTED ON THE FIELD, spirits were lifted once they arrived at the air-conditioned hotel. Jill and the managers went all out for them: every player got their own room. Christen desperately wanted to get to her room and take a shower. She felt disgusting and... sticky. Not a good mix by any means.

After her refreshing shower, Christen began to unpack her bags. She stopped to check her phone and saw a text from the group chat:

Party in my room!!! Go to 710 for fun games and tiny bottles of Brazilian liquor courtesy the mini fridgeeeee.

If you don't come, you're lame. XOXO

Christen laughed to herself. This was very obviously the work of a certain Kelley O'Hara. 

There was no reason for Christen not to go: she'd gotten plenty of sleep on the plane, it would probably pan out to be a good time, plus the additional benefit of Tobin not being there. It would be a fun way to start her Olympic journey. A good way to take her mind off the stress of the games that were coming up. This would probably be her last chance to have mindless fun for the next month.

So why not go? 

Christen got dressed and made herself decent and made her way down the hall to Kelley's room room. She knew Kelley would be there, obviously. And Mal, too, since wherever Kelley went, Mal would blindly follow. 

Kelley opened the door and her mouth fell open. "Press? You've decided to grace this party with your presence?"

"Of course," Christen responded with a grin as she breezed through the door. She was delighted to see Mal and Crystal already inside. They quickly filled Christen in on who else was supposedly coming: Pinoe, Alex, Ali (who was sadly missing Ashlyn), JJ, Moe, and Becky. "At least," Kelley had said with plenty of emphasis.

(Kelley really expected her party to be some sort of rager in the middle of the afternoon. _Classic Kelley_ , thought Christen.)

But Christen was really convinced now that she was going to have a good time.

"I HAVE A FUN GAME WE CAN PLAY!" Kelley offered in a sing-song voice once the others arrived as promised. Others came, too — Allie and Lindsey decided to make appearances. It was easy to see that Kelley was pleased with the turnout. It was nearly the whole team.

"Okay, okay. Here's the game, ladies: who here hasn't done the dirty for the longest?" She offered through a grin. "The winner gets... drumroll please... a mini bottle of liquor of their choice! Who wants to play?"

Christen nervously agreed since everyone else caved, too. It would be awkward if she declined; then it would _really_ be suspicious.

There had to be someone there who'd had a longer dry spell than her.

"The winner, by the way, is the person who hasn't had sex for the longest. Okay, I'll start: almost six months."

Christen was absolutely fucked. 

"I haven't slept with anyone since I broke up with Eric," Moe added. For some reason, everyone thought this was outrageous.

"A whole friggin' year?!" Allie said incredulously.

Moe nodded, but defended herself: "It's just been hard getting over him, that's all."

"Excuse me, Miss Morgan Brian, but have you ever heard of... oh, I don't know, a _rebound_?" Crystal asked, which got a laugh out of everyone.

"I haven't gotten around to it. I've been working on myself," Moe replied, but everyone knew this was bullshit. Even Moe herself laughed at her lame excuse. Christen was having fun and laughing along with the group until Alex asked: "What about you, Press? You've been oddly quiet."

Her face burned with embarrassment. 

God, it made her so upset when pretty people asked her annoying questions. It was so much harder for her to be angry at attractive people.

"It's been..." Christen began slowly.

Hell, she'd rather train one-on-one with Tobin than tell them.

"Come on, spit it out," Pinoe urged. "Safe space. No telling anyone."

As soon as the words came out of her mouth, she knew she would get grief for saying them, but there was no taking them back—

"It's... well, you know, it's been a while. Like, um... two years."

EVERYONE'S MOUTH HUNG WIDE OPEN; THEY WERE SPEECHLESS. Christen wanted to just die in a hole. A tsunami of regret washed over her.

Why the hell did reveal that?

"Jesus, Press... How? How does something like that... happen to someone like _you_ , of all people?" Alex wondered aloud.

"I don't know. I guess I've just put relationships on the back burner." Christen was struggling to find grounds to defend herself on. "But, wait, hey, Mal is here! Mallory Pugh, don't you dare tell me you're not a virgin," warned Christen.

It was clear she was just trying to shift the attention away from her under the guise of the "mom friend" archetype.

"Okay, fine, I am. But I was under the impression that I wasn't really playing in this. You, Christen... you're totally fair game. Face it," Mal said, holding back laughter.

"She's right," Kelley declared. "Since Mal is underage, she's automatically out. And I'm assuming anyone who's married or in a relationship did it before we left."

"Well, shit. No wonder I won. Almost everyone here is in a relationship," Christen pointed out.

"Holy sh— Chris, have you not had sex since you were with that Swedish guy?" Crystal asked. "God, he was gorgeous. What was his name, what was it..."

"Max," Becky answered enthusiastically. "Since Max, Christen? Have you been with anyone since him?"

The entire room held their breath as they awaited her answer.

Christen looked down and silently shook her head "no."

Everyone's eyes widened.

"Ladies, we have got to get Christen laid. That's our second mission. Our first mission, obviously, is getting that gold. Our second, though, is Christen," Pinoe announced. Everyone agreed.

"Look at her. Look at this face," Crystal said as she took Christen's jaw in her hand, "girls, this is the face of someone that is so undeniably fuckable, but just... what, do you choose not to? Is it, like, a conscious choice?"

"It just... I don't know, it just doesn't happen for me, I guess."

"Why? How? That's just... that's just crazy. I refuse to believe that," said Alex. "Christen, come on. Look at yourself." 

(Something about someone as beautiful as Alex Morgan complimenting her appearance made her feel some type of way. She couldn't put a finger on it. It was a ridiculously good feeling, close to giddiness.)

"Christen, if you're not into this, it's fine, we'll drop the whole shebang. And we'll tell no one. Scout's honor," Kelley said..

"Who else is there not to tell?" Christen asked exasperatedly. "This is almost everybody on the whole damn team!"

"Um, hello? Tobin?" Mal supplied. "I'm sure she'd find this funny."

Christen's heart almost stopped at the thought of Tobin finding out. God, that would be so, so embarrassing. Christen couldn't even imagine recovering from it.

"Well, I mean... I guess it would be nice..." Christen finally admitted. Cheers erupted throughout the room.

"Gold or no gold," Crystal started, squeezing Christen's shoulder, "you're definitely getting some when we get home. Our word is good— isn't that right, ladies?"

Everyone agreed wholeheartedly before Pinoe added, "But we're definitely getting gold."

"Now, Miss Christen Annemarie Press, I believe you are to be treated to your choice of these fine spirits?" Kelley asked in a silly, butler-type voice as she opened the mini fridge. Christen giggled as she took out a little glass bottle of Absolut — the only brand in the fridge she'd ever seen before — and cracked it open.

"God, this is taking me back to your first college party," Kelley said. Everyone already knew the story, but as Kelley began to tell the story again, Christen downed the whole bottle as her teammates looked on and cheered. 

Then that rush took over her again.

It felt addictive at 18, and it sure as hell felt the same at 27.

There wasn't a sensation like it in the world. She felt like she was beyond clarity, past liberation. It was this superhuman feeling deep within her—

It always managed to drive her crazy. She craved it.

She'd craved it ever since her first taste. 


	6. Dream a Little, Dream of Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title lyric is from Lana del Rey's "Fuck it I love you."
> 
> (Don't be surprised if I end up using a bunch of Lana del Rey lyrics in the future. Especially some Born To Die era lyrics. I would *literally* die for her, no questions asked.)
> 
> This chapter includes Tobin POV as a little thanks for your loyal readership :)))  
> And thank you all so much for the endless positivity, it really makes my day!!!!! It makes this worth writing!!!!!!
> 
> This time around, the story begins with Christen in the midst of a nightmare (which explains the italics)...

_THERE THEY WERE AGAIN. Christen could remember the day so clearly even two years later. They were walking side-by-side at the shore of the Baltic Sea, holding gloved hands. They never did things like this anymore. They were past that honeymoon stage._

_Christen looked up, way up, and saw Max's face. His drop-dead handsome face, the face that made all her teammates jealous. His perfect smile. The crisp wind blowing through his thick waves of blond hair. The older he got, the more he looked like a sailor, especially with his scruff beginning to grow in more, plus his watery blue eyes and that air of mystery._

_There was no denying that Christen was in love with Max Nagard._

_And Max was head over heels for Christen Press._

_Their relationship was a quiet one; both weren't very talkative. They recognized each other's needs, and usually expressed more in their actions than with words. Christen liked it that way. Talking was always the worst part of a relationship. Max was easy. He was familiar. He wasn't a "grand gestures" type of guy. No surprises._

_So when Max told Christen they were going on a day trip to the beach, Christen knew that Max had something in store._

_She just wasn't sure what._

_Neither of them quite knew where their relationship stood after Christen announced her offer from the Chicago Red Stars. There was no way Max could go to the States, with his company beginning to take off, and Christen was still debating on whether or not she should stay in Sweden or go home._

_But today, she decided, she wouldn't think about that heavy decision. She would just think about the way her hand felt warm in Max's, and the way the cold seawater lapped at her boots as they crunched into the gravelly beach. She didn't want to forget this beautiful moment. How they were alone on this beach together._

_Until it turned sour. She could remember the exact feeling in the pit of her stomach when it happened._

_It was almost like it happened just yesterday, it was so fresh._

_"Christen," Max had begun, holding her hands as he walked backward and she walked forward. Suddenly, he stopped walking._

_"I know, I know, you just got that offer from Chicago to play for them."_

_Oh, no. Max wasn't about to do this._

_"But really, I can't..." he sighed, struggling to find the words. "Please, Christen, don't leave me. I don't want you to go. There's no one else in the world I'd rather be with than you. The past two years with you have been just... I can't even begin to tell you how in love with you I am. I'm so crazy for you, Christen Press. I love you."_

_And then he got down on one knee. Christen couldn't tell if she was actually crying or the wind was causing her eyes to tear up._

_But he couldn't possibly be doing this now._

_"Christen. I thought... I thought I would always be one of those people who wouldn't find love. I've never believed that there's a soulmate for all seven billion people on this earth. And I still don't believe it. I mean, it's just... there's no way. It's impossible. But I know — God, I've known for months now, almost a whole damn year — that I have a soulmate."_

_"I love you so much. I know it's only been, like, a year since we've said it to each other. But I didn't want to freak you out, since I know you like to take things slow, and I do, too. It scared me at first, how much I was in love with you. How much I wanted you. I could hardly handle myself. You're just... you're so unreal. How do people like you even exist?"_

_"And I know, I sound like a huge idiot right now. And I know it's soon for you. It's soon for me. But I'm not saying we have to get married anytime soon, but—"_

_"Maxie..." Christen started pathetically. She had to stop him._

_They couldn't end it like this._

_"No, Christen, please." His voice was becoming desperate, almost as if he knew what was coming. "I need to finish. Please."_

_Christen was speechless._

_"Christen Press," he said slowly again through a shaky breath, "I know you're way too good for me. But I can't wait for you. I'm so, so in love with you, I can't even manage it. It's been consuming me since we first met. I've known deep down inside for the longest time that there's no one else for me. I have eyes for nothing else — nobody else — but you. It's only you, Christen. It's always been you."_

_He took a breath. Christen nearly winced as she heard the words escape him:_

_"Would you please do me the honor — the immense honor — and make me the happiest man on Earth... as my wife?"_

_Christen had no words as he opened the ring box and she saw the perfect diamond ring inside. It must've been a fortune, probably the majority of that quarter's profits._

_The sole indication to her that the world hadn't stopped turning was that the tide still rolled in and out at her feet._

_Max could tell he hadn't managed to convince her. His voice wobbled as he continued: "I know, we're both still so young. But I want to be with you forever. We'll never get tired of each other. And who knows, maybe in a few years, we can go back to the States together, maybe even get married there, you know? I just..."_

_Christen really began to cry. This couldn't be how Max and Christen would say goodbye._

_"Please, Christen. You mean everything to me. I'll give up anyone and anything for you. I'll sell the company, whatever's left of it, follow you to Chicago. The weather there is just like it is here, right? We'll live in Chicago and we'll be so, so happy together, I know it, and I know you know it, too. Just... please, Christen, just say 'yes.' That's all I need to hear for now."_

_"I can't—" Christen began through tears. "I can't tell you what you need to hear, Maxie. I'm so, so sorry. And I love you. But I can't do this."_

_Max stood up. Christen began to sob into her hands on the beach. Max took her hands away from her face and shook his head in disbelief._

_"No, baby, come on, don't cry. It doesn't have to be this way. We can stay together, even if you go back to America. Yeah?"_

_"Max," she said as she caught her breath, "come on. This was never going to work. When this all started, we agreed that this would stay here in Sweden—"_

_"But I can't help the way I feel about you, Christen Press. I am so crazy in love with you. I'll never meet a woman like you again, for the rest of my life, that's for sure. No one compares to you. You're perfect. We're perfect for each other. Come on, you know this," he pleaded, squeezing her hands in his, never wanting to let go._

_"Maxie, please," she cried as her voice broke with despair. "Don't make me do this. I don't want to do this to you. Don't make this hard."_

_"Chris—"_

_"Max," she breathed as he wrapped her so, so tight in the last bear hug she would ever receive from him._

_She didn't want to let him go. But she had to._

CHRISTEN'S BODY ACHED AS SHE AWOKE THAT MORNING. In an awful twist of fate, to get to the semifinals at the Olympics, she'd have to face Sweden. She knew some of their players well, and of course, they'd heard of her. She was the only American to have ever won a Golden Boot in the Swedish League. She was deadly to them.

She felt so wildly nauseated by the idea of playing them, but forced herself into a hot shower to get rid of the feeling of her heavy muscles. She had to snap out of it. Today was for revenge. She needed this. The team needed this. She wouldn't let them down. She wouldn't let her stupid feelings get in the way of the game.

This had been a recurring dream of her's that she always had the night before a stressful day. Whether it was a tough game day ahead of her, or the NWSL draft decisions, it always seemed to pop up again. It was the same, every time, an exact retelling of how it really happened.

And no one knew about it.

Sure, everyone knew about Max. But no one knew about how Christen turned down that proposal. It was a secret she kept on her own. She told no one on the team, none of her sisters, not even her mother or father.

It was just for her and Max to know about. No one else.

She popped a few Advil and didn't think of it any more.

It was just a bad dream.

It meant nothing.

IT WAS THE VERY MOMENT CHRISTEN HAD FEARED FROM THE BEGINNING. Penalty kicks. Versus none other than Sweden. Throughout the game, the girls had been fighting, but lost steam after the first half, which was made evident by the final score: 1-1. 

It was make it or break it. 

Her time had come.

Christen took a deep breath as an attempt to silence the deafening sound of the cheers in the crowd. She couldn't let anything distract her. This single shot was more important than any other ball she'd ever kicked in her entire career, in her entire life. Everyone was riding on this. Her medal was riding on this.

Tobin's medal was riding on this. 

She was determined not to let her team down.

But as she exhaled, she was completely blindsided.

Max Nagard had re-entered her thoughts, unannounced. His presence was obviously unwelcome. She shook her head to push him away, but he just wouldn't leave. His words from that day rang in her ears, over and over and over again: " _It's only you, Christen Press. It's always been you._ "

She thought she might be going crazy.

With a head full of steam, she approached the ball, knowing her time was running out. She didn't dare look over to the sidelines.

She felt as though she were stuck underwater, with the chanting around her muffled, her suddenly noticeable inability to breathe, and the acute panic taking over her body—

She kicked.

And she missed.

Her mouth fell open and she dropped to her knees. Now her chest felt _really_ tight, just like how Max had squeezed her hands — with an intense refusal to let go. Christen thought she was having a heart attack. She could no longer hear herself think, or feel her heart beating. She could only feel the tears falling down the sides of her face.

It was over. 

They lost.

CHRISTEN AND ALEX WERE INCONSOLABLE. Alex had also missed her PK. The shuttle back from the arena to the hotel was silent with the exception of the muffled cries from the two at the back of the bus. Now Christen and Alex were sitting alone in Alex's room. They knew that no one would want to talk to them.

"Just like that. Our gold medals... they-they're gone," Alex stammered. Christen still had no words. She couldn't find any.

"God, I'm such a goddamn idiot. Who... who the hell let me play pro soccer?! It's not worth it." When Alex began to question her career, it was clear that she was really at rock bottom.

"At least you scored, though," Christen remarked finally. "You have _something_ redeeming you. I-I have nothing. Just... just a shit PK and a lost chance at a medal."

"Would you stop saying that?" Alex said, her voice barely louder than a whisper. She wiped the tears from Christen's face. "It's not you."

Christen was in no mood to argue with Alex, so she just folded over and cried into her lap from nearly an hour before they decided it was getting late and Christen should probably be making it back to her room.

Once Christen scanned the key on the lock of her door, she ran inside and dropped onto the bed, sobbing into the pillows. In the complete darkness. She knew that the others were probably packing up their things, getting ready for bed and all that, but Christen couldn't bring herself to do anything but cry.

SHE HAD NO IDEA WHAT TIME IT WAS WHEN SHE HEARD THE KNOCK ON THE DOOR. It was probably a noise complaint, if anything. Christen struggled to pick herself up and open the door.

It was Tobin.

"Tobin, please, I just..."

"Christen—"

"Please, let me just talk for one second." Christen took a shaky breath as Tobin allowed her to continue.

"I can't... I can't hear this from you right now. I just... you can't do this to me, okay? I'll be able to handle it in the morning, but right now, I just can't take it. I know what you want to say to me. If you want to beat me up, go ahead — slap me, punch me, slit my fucking throat, whatever — I know I deserve it, and I... I don't care anymore. But please, Tobin, if you've ever had any semblance of respect for me, just... please, don't say a word to me right now, okay?"

"It's almost 1:30 in the morning," Tobin finally said.

"Is... is that all you came here to tell me?" Christen asked through sniffles. "Oh. Okay. Well, um, I'll... I'll try to keep it down, then, but—"

"I'm coming in," Tobin announced as she pushed past Christen and through the doorway. Christen began to cry more. She didn't want to know what Tobin was about to do to her. What if Tobin killed her in cold blood right in the middle of her hotel room?

 _Well_ , she thought to herself, _I might make the news for something other than missing a crucial, career-changing Olympic PK. That'd be nice._

"On the bed, Press. Now," Tobin demanded as she herself reclined on the bed. Christen obeyed. 

"Come here." Tobin waved her closer.

"What?"

"Come on, Christen. You need this, I need this, everyone needs this."

"What are you trying to—"

"Goddamn, Christen, I'm not heartless. I came here to comfort you." Christen brought herself closer to Tobin and laid her head down on Tobin's chest. The feeling of Tobin's body rising and falling with each breath she took was relaxing. She cried softly as Tobin's fingers made their way through ringlets of Christen's hair. Tobin shushed her softly and wrapped her arms around Press's warm body.

Tobin became suddenly aware that they'd never been this close to each other before.

"Tobin, I—"

"Don't you dare say anything, Christen Press. I just want you to calm down. Take a minute, okay? Do that meditation thing that you like." 

_Tobin knows I meditate?_

SHE WANTED TO REMEMBER THIS FEELING FOR THE REST OF HER LIFE. Tobin's hand rhythmically patting the side of Christen's head in time with her own heartbeat. The feeling of Christen's breath continuing to shake, which meant she was still crying. The inside of her arm arm becoming wet with Christen's tears.

But she didn't mind.

She was over the moon.

All this time, she'd tried time and time again to get closer to Christen. But for some reason, it never worked. And finally, for once, Christen didn't reject her advances. Tobin didn't have butterflies in her stomach; she had a herd of wild stallions racing inside of her body. And somehow, this feeling was unbeknownst to Christen altogether.

Tobin didn't mind it that way, but as she fell asleep holding Christen's delicate body close to her chest, she wondered if things between them would ever change. If they could ever be more than just teammates. God, she wanted to kiss her so damn bad, and she knew now was not the time whatsoever, but if it were—

It wasn't like she hadn't imagined making out with Christen Press before. She'd dreamt of it more often than she would've liked to admit. Kelley had told her plenty of times that Christen had kissed tons of girls — they were just some drunk college stories, of course — yet Tobin always wondered what it would be like to get a taste of Christen between her teeth.

Something close to heaven, probably.

But Christen wasn't into girls... like that.

(Or so at least she thought.)

"HEY, TOBIN. WAKE UP. COME ON." Tobin heard Christen's voice rousing her awake at an ungodly hour. It had begun to get light outside, but there was no way Christen's alarm had gone off yet. As Tobin opened her eyes, she met Christen's, and although they were puffy from tears, they were as gorgeous as ever. Tobin sighed.

 _Oh, to be as beautiful as Christen, and seem to not know it_ , Tobin thought.

"Look, Tobin. This was really, really nice. I mean, thank you so much for doing this... for me. But, I just... I really hate to kick you out like this, but, you know, what if people catch you in my room? Like, what would people say? And I don't want this whole thing to be misconstrued by the girls, or Jill, especially after how I fucked up last night—"

"Say no more. I'm already on my way. I totally get what you mean."

"Thank you," Christen said, grabbing Tobin's hands before she had the chance to leave. 

"It really wasn't any trouble, Christen."

"Seriously, though, thank you, Tobin. I mean it. I really do." 

Tobin had never looked that deep into Christen's eyes before. 

For years now, she'd been wondering what color they were. It was this ongoing game she played with herself, and she'd been going back and forth with no real decision for some time now, but now, she knew for sure—

They were green. 

And they were gorgeous.

Tobin didn't think it was possible to fall any more in love with Christen Press, but when she saw the true, beautiful color of her eyes, she caved immediately.

There was no resisting her.


	7. Good Girls (Are Bad Girls That Haven't Been Caught)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm coming at you with some throwback 5SOS with this chapter's title lyric, from "Good Girls."  
> God, I miss 2014. Luke Hemmings was so hot. (He still is now, but Quiff Luke just hit different...)
> 
> The girls have come home from Brazil in defeat. This chapter takes place around a month post-Olympics.  
> (BTW, CP's about to make some BAD decisions up in here!)
> 
> Oh, last thing: I have to thank you all again for the overwhelming support, of course!!!! <3
> 
> Now, onto the story...

"PRESS, COME ON... WE'RE COMMITTED TO THIS," Julie urged. "You're not bailing on your first date in two years."

"Ugh. Jules, please believe me when I say I'm totally fine living my life without sex," Christen insisted. Julie gave her a look.

It was clear Christen still had some convincing to do.

Christen was maybe 10% excited for her date tonight, and 90% a nervous wreck. Christen couldn't remember a single first date she'd went on in her life that hadn't been a disaster. Even with Max, it was awful.

He'd gone in for a kiss and she gave him a hug instead.

Yes, Christen was _that_ bad at reading men.

"You promised at Kelley's hotel room, Christen. Come on."

"Hey, this won't be the only promise that falls through," Christen noted. Julie rolled her eyes. Christen had never been the pessimistic type before — not before she'd singlehandedly fumbled the chance at her first Olympic gold last month. 

"I told you to stop beating yourself up, Press. Cut it out. It's not on you."

"You know what?" Christen started as she finally managed to pick out a dress from her limited selection. "I'll go on the date, get wine-drunk, and who knows... it could go well."

"Christen Press throwing caution to the wind? Love to see it," Julie said approvingly. 

Christen's date tonight was a roommate of Zach's in college, which meant that this guy _also_ went to Stanford just a few years behind her. Julie declined to tell Christen any more about him: nothing about what he did for a living, his likes and dislikes, none of it. "This date is for _you_ to have," Julie had said. "Where's the fun if I give you all the answers?"

She only knew his alma mater and his name:

Sam Pinkman.

Stanford University, Class of 2012.

CHRISTEN EXPECTED TO BE THE FIRST TO ARRIVE. Christen went everywhere early by at least ten minutes, but felt the most comfortable with fifteen. To her shock, though, when she stepped inside the restaurant, she was met almost immediately by her date.

"So it really is Christen Press. Whoa," she heard someone say. Christen tried to identify the voice, but the restaurant was too loud. Finally, someone emerged from the bar.

There was no doubt he was more handsome than your average guy. He had the looks of Gus Kenworthy, the snowboarder who Christen had always found attractive but unfortunately, was gay.

This man was tall — not Max Nagard tall, not 6'5, but a respectable 6' or 6'1, Christen estimated — with a good build and a devilish smile.

That was what Christen noticed first about this guy: Max's smile had always been innocent, angelic, bright. But he had a grin on his face that made Christen want to know more about him. There was an intriguing energy to him.

And Christen was attracted to it.

She'd never been into bad boys before. She almost felt afraid of herself.

"It's really nice to meet you. I'm Sam, Zach's friend," he said. He had a hot voice — gruff and masculine, but not crazy deep — but shockingly, wasn't ultra-suave like his appearance suggested. He extended his hand and she shook it. Guys never started dates with handshakes — more often than not, it was an awkward hug or a stupid little wave — but it was clear that Sam meant business.

And Christen liked that.

He took her seriously.

"We're a little bit early, yeah?" Sam wondered aloud. Christen agreed with a small laugh.

_God, Chris, you are being such a ditz, what is the matter with you?_

"I'm gonna be honest, Sam, I don't know much about you. I mean, Julie didn't tell me anything," she admitted to him. Sam laughed heartily. "Classic Julie. I've met her a few times, and she's a whole lot of fun, isn't she?"

Christen was internally begging for a host to seat them. Small talk was awful. Small talk with wine and bread was slightly better.

After what seemed like hours, their table was finally ready, and Christen was more than ready to sit down at a table. She was liking Sam thus far, but she could tell she was out of practice with this kind of stuff. _Way_ out of practice.

"THIS IS GONNA SOUND KINDA WEIRD," Sam began as he passed his menu over to the waiter, "But I was a huge fan of yours in college. Like, I went to all the home games, a few aways..." Christen couldn't help but break out into a smile. Sam's cheeks were visibly flushed — Christen could tell even by candlelight — yet his grin didn't falter.

"Come on," Christen said. "You're joking."

"No, really, when Julie set me up with you, I was completely mind-blown. You were a celebrity to me. Like, this? Right now? Crazy. 19-year-old Sam is just... _wow_."

"That's sweet." Christen hadn't really met any fans before, especially not ones from her college days. This was going well so far, as far as Christen could tell. "So, you know what I've been doing since then... but what've you been up to? What do you do?" 

"Nothing special, really. I've been working in finances at Boeing just outside the city for a few years." 

"The _plane_ company, Boeing?" This was a stupid question, obviously, but Sam didn't seem to mind or notice, he just nodded.

"I didn't have a passion — not like you do. So I just decided to get my C.F.A. certificate and see where it took me," he said with a shrug. "But I'm gonna be honest... it's not worth it. Being a sell-out isn't something to be proud of, in my opinion. You're so lucky, you know? Every single day, you get to do what you love for a living, and you're damn good at it, too. There's something to be said for that."

"You're flattering me," Christen said humbly through a soft smile. But when she thought about it, he was right.

Even if she'd lost the Olympics for her team, she still got to do what she loved. And although losing it all made her love soccer a little bit less for a short while, soccer made her feel so safe. She was part of the team; the Women's National Team. No one could take it away from her. She'd earned it, even in spite of missing the most trivial of PK's.

Christen had a feeling that this would be the only first date she'd ever been on in her life that was going to end well.

AFTER A FEW GLASSES OF WINE, Christen was feeling much looser, and Sam was feeling the same after he'd had a few himself. It helped their conversation flow massively. Sure, Christen was probably revealing too much for a first date. But she didn't care. Her goal of the night was to get wine-drunk. And she was well on her way.

Sam was refreshing. It was almost like he knew her already, since he was already familiar with her work, so it was easy to talk to him. He listened. He was enthralled by her, for some reason, and Christen wasn't resisting being attracted to him; he was hot.

"I'm gonna let you in on a little secret," Christen started. "I haven't been in a serious relationship for a while. Like, a long time."

"Same here," Sam said as he took a sip. "How long?"

"Um... two years." Christen could feel her face heating up and she wasn't sure if it was from her alcohol intake or her admission. Sam raised his eyebrows yet put his glass down gently on the table, keeping composure. "Two years? You've gotta be kidding me. _The_ Christen Press? I don't believe it."

"It's true," she maintained. "What about you, though? Come on, you _have_ to tell me now." Christen could detect the flirty tone in her voice, but she wasn't upset about it.

"Jeez... it's gotta be, what, I don't know... almost three-ish years? I haven't had a relationship that's lasted longer than a few months since my senior year of college. I'm... I'm not very experienced in relationships, really."

"Well then, same goes for yourself. I can hardly believe _that_ ," Christen replied. "Look at you."

Jesus Christ, she was being forward.

"Oh, yeah? Well, that's nice of you to say, but..." Even half-drunk, clueless Christen could tell that Sam was flustered.

And it was so attractive for some reason.

"I've just been spending time putting my career first, is all," he explained finally.

"Yes, thank you! All my teammates seem to think there's a problem with that, but I do that, too!"

Christen smiled at Sam across the table, and Sam was still giving her that sly grin. That irresistible grin.

Yeah, Christen knew that tonight was going to end well.

IT WAS GETTING LATE WHEN SAM FINALLY PAID THE CHECK. They'd both gone through about a bottle and a half of wine together, which was a mistake, since it was apparent that both of them were lightweights. Soon after they left the restaurant, Christen felt her legs beginning to give in as she walked towards Sam, who stood on the corner, hailing a taxi.

A single taxi.

"You can take me up to North La Salle Street, please," Sam told the man as they got in, but Christen put her hand on his arm before leaning forward and telling the driver: "No, um, actually, can you take us to Michigan Avenue? Thank you."

Sam looked at Christen open-mouthed.

This was absolutely wild.

This was _so_ not Christen Press.

But maybe she needed this.

SOMEHOW, FOR SOME REASON, WITHIN SECONDS OF CLOSING THE DOOR, CHRISTEN'S DRESS JUST HAPPENED TO BECOME UNZIPPED. And Sam's tie was loosened and his shirt became unbuttoned, just like magic.

They'd kissed heavily in the backseat the entire ride back to Christen's apartment.

It was alarming how fast they undressed. 

The primal instincts within her kicked into overdrive, and she was an entirely different animal. Christen was in rare form; she was reckless, unstoppable, close to savage. Sam, although certainly athletic, was starting to run out of breath as he struggled to keep up with Christen's desire. 

It scared her, how it took over her so quickly and so completely, but she pushed away the fear.

She was always stuck in her head.

She should let her body do the talking for once.

Christen noticed that even the way Sam talked to her made her feel hot all over. The way he talked to her was pure sex on its own. " _God_ , you're being so good," Sam would murmur into the crook of her neck, and Christen would feel that familiar burst of energy in the pit of her stomach. The words themselves would tingle: in her ears, in her fingertips, like pinpricks on her skin.

The sex with him was good — _too_ good, but her opinion was probably influenced by the fact she hadn't had sex in so long — and it made her worry about whether or not she was good enough for him.

He somehow always seemed to know what to do with his hands, his hips, his mouth.

It became obvious that Christen was out of practice.

But whenever those questions of her worth arose in her mind, Sam's words of admiration would always quiet them: "You're doing so well." Or, "God, you're _incredible_."

It was quite addictive, actually.

She could listen to him talk like this for hours on end and not tire of it.

Maybe she did need sex after all.

FROM THE SECOND SHE WOKE UP, Christen was barraged by feelings of shame and guilt. 

Christen was now the player who was into one-night stands with fans.

She rolled over and Sam was still there, asleep, his back to her. Christen was so tempted to trace the defined muscles of his back with her fingers, or perhaps run her hand through his hair, but she stopped herself. She was nearly thirty; she shouldn't be doing shit like this anymore.

Yet still, despite the embarrassment, she found it in her to take a picture of Sam's back and text it to Kelley: "Mission accomplished. Twice."

Now, she would wait. She would wait for Kelley to text back.

And she would wait for Sam to wake up.

Christen lay back down in her bed and wrapped herself up in sheets for modesty's sake. God, why did she do that? She bit down on her lower lip, feeling close to disgusted by herself, that she would give into someone so quickly like that. 

She didn't want people thinking that Christen Press was easy.

She wasn't. Usually.

Christen forced herself out of bed and into the bathroom. She looked in the mirror. She could barely remember the last time she'd had this post-sex look: mussed-up hair, dewy skin, plumped lips from far too much kissing, and several hickeys that had emerged where her neck met her collarbones. She could barely recognize herself. It looked good, she had to admit, but it wasn't her.

It wasn't Christen Press.

It was clear Sam Pinkman had done quite a number on her.

As Christen returned to the bedroom, she saw Sam had shifted in her bed slightly and was beginning to wake up.

"Morning, baby," he said in that rough morning voice that was like music to her. But as much as she liked hearing it, something about it made her wrap the sheets around herself even tighter. She regretted letting him see her body, letting him touch her all over like that.

She regretted all of last night. It was a mistake.

Most of all, though, she regretted having liked it so much.

She regretted how she'd called out for him, how she begged for him to keep going, how he so easily took control of her— 

"Don't call me that," she warned as she ran a shaky hand through her hair to get herself to think straight.

As harsh as it was, it needed to be said.

She couldn't let this continue.

TOBIN WAS MORE THAN APPALLED AT THE NEWS. When Kelley texted her that morning a screenshot of Christen's text, she nearly punched out a wall. Tobin's insides burned; she was so unimaginably livid, _so_ disappointed—

So... _hurt_.

It was just more proof to Tobin that Christen was indeed not her's.

And that Christen was indeed still into guys.

 _How could Christen do this to me?_ Tobin couldn't help but wonder, her eyes dangerously close to watering. Not from tears of sadness; rather, tears of anger. _Especially after that last night in Rio..._

It made Tobin wonder even more how anyone could be attracted to men in the slightest. They did low shit like this to good, innocent, beautiful, amazing, perfect women... like Christen Press. How could Christen have been taken advantage of so easily?

Tobin could've sworn Christen was stronger than this.

But maybe Tobin didn't know Christen all that well after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My dear fans... I'm sorry I made you read that.
> 
> I'm sorry Christen had sex with a man.
> 
> Look, I warned you, she's a chaotic, sexually frustrated, raging bisexual in this one...
> 
> I hope you all don't hate me too much. I promise, this is just a bump in the road, and I've got a little Tobin surprise coming up soon. That's all I can tell you for now.
> 
> Just hang in there please.
> 
> (Oh, and Sam Pinkman isn't a recurring presence. Don't fret.)


	8. Three Years, Loved You Every Single Day (Made Me Weak/It Was Real for Me)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title lyric of the chapter is from "Hard Feelings/Loveless" by Lorde. Come on sis, put out that new album!
> 
> I'm going to clarify some things now since there was some controversy in the comments...
> 
> I'm not a biphobe, and I didn't intend to write Tobin Heath as one. I'm still learning as a writer, so sometimes my words fail me, and my descriptions don't come out the way I want them to come off to you all. I didn't realize the way I was writing Tobin was harmful; I myself cannot write from the lesbian experience as I am not one. Please continue to be patient with me.
> 
> It's frustrating not being able to find the right words sometimes, but I try my very best!
> 
> Regardless, thank you all so much for the continued support and readership!!!!
> 
> This chapter is very very special in that it is written ENTIRELY in Tobin's POV so please enjoy :)
> 
> Let's get right into it now...

THE FIRST CAMP BACK WAS TORTUROUS. Tobin looked at Christen and she could hardly breathe. Just Christen's presence alone was killing her. There was so much pent-up anger, frustration, disappointment, all of it. How was supposed she manage to keep all of it inside?

Tobin was more frustrated at Christen's actions since the Olympics than losing the Olympics itself.

Everyone noticed her sulky behavior but no one said anything about it. And naturally, she took it out on Christen through her actions. Tobin was never one with words. She'd tackle, nutmeg, and mark the shit out of Christen Press, day after day at camp, relentlessly.

And naturally, Christen was beginning to get fed up.

But Tobin just couldn't stop.

It was as though her body was _forcing_ her to do these things.

Tobin used to do these things to Christen for fun, playfully. But it was clear that it was no longer lighthearted. She became increasingly aggressive with Christen.

"Hey, Tobin," Jill said as she called her off the field for a sub from Carli. It was nearly the end of their training session, and they were playing eleven-on-eleven. And this time, Christen and Tobin were on the opposite teams.

"Get some water first, but I've gotta pull you for a chat in a minute."

Tobin nodded, sipped water, and jogged over to her coach.

She already knew she wasn't going to like what Jill was about to tell her.

Jill looked up from her clipboard. "Hey. Lay off. I know you're upset at Press because of how the Olympics ended, but you've gotta stop doing this to her. Come on, you don't play dirty like that. That's not you, Tobin. Get out of your head."

Tobin pushed Jill's buttons: "I don't know what you're talking about." Jill shot her a warning look.

"Tobin, come on. It's obvious. I'm not an idiot. I'm so, _so_ close to aggression-calling you. You can't do this to her. It's not fair. If you don't knock it off, you're gonna run full-field sprints after practice. Now I've made myself clear, haven't I?" 

"Yes, Coach." Jill walked away shaking her head.

Tobin was becoming a monster.

"HEY, HEATH." Kelley began in a tone close to a bark as she sat down next to Tobin on the shuttle back to the team's hotel. "What's going on? What's with all these... I don't know, bad vibes?"

"I dunno," Tobin mumbled, her arms crossed. But she knew.

"Seriously, buddy... what's up with you? You've gotta tell me, Tobin. Use words," Kelley urged, her voice becoming soothing. It was always striking how Kelley could go from so harsh to so soft very quickly, but no one did it better than she did.

"I'll—" Tobin sighed as she smoothed her ponytail with her hand. "I'll tell you later, Kel."

"Tobin, come on, this seems serious." Kelley's voice lowered as she continued, "What the hell is up with you and Christen lately?"

"Can we talk later?" Tobin asked, before adding in Kelley's ear, "Alone?"

Kelley agreed. "Okay, but you have to promise to talk with me. It's eating Christen up. It's real serious. She doesn't know what she did, and she's stressing out—"

"I promise."

Tobin _had_ to sort her feelings out with someone.

She couldn't let it affect Christen.

Never in a million years.

KELLEY CAME TO TOBIN'S HOTEL ROOM LATE THAT NIGHT. Tobin didn't want anyone to draw their own conclusions or anything like that. Tobin quickly shut the door as Kelley made herself comfortable in Tobin's room, reclining on her bed. "Okay, Tobin Heath, it's time to spit it out: what's been bothering you?"

"Okay, so you know when you have a crush on a girl — like, a really, _really_ big crush, _so_ big that it's consuming you entirely, and she's all you can think about — and then she goes and sleeps with a guy? And you thought the two of you might just have a chance, but she sleeps with a guy _just_ to spite you, just to point out the fact that, 'Oh, hey, did you forget that I'm straight?'"

Kelley fought back a smile. Kelley liked to be right about things. "So it _is_ about Christen. I knew it! Stanford, class of '09, baby!"

"Not funny, Kelley. I don't mean for it to impact how I treat her, but I just... I can't help myself."

"Well," Kelley began through a breath, "She's not entirely straight. So... I'm just gonna put that out there."

Tobin's heart rate sped up. "What? How do you know?"

"Just believe me, Tobin. God, you might be the _only_ gay person I know without gaydar," Kelley said smugly before adding, "Oh, and she didn't sleep with him to spite you. You're being ridiculous. Did you know she hadn't had sex for two freakin' years before that guy?"

Tobin was blown away, her mouth wide open, beginning to form a smile.

This was wild. Kelley was answering all the questions.

(All Kelley said was, "Shit, I wasn't supposed to say that.")

"You're joking. You have to be kidding. That's... that's crazy. Christen? Christen Press?" Tobin finally managed to stammer.

Kelley nodded knowingly. 

"So you understand now, right?"

"I guess... I mean, a little bit more. But—" Tobin nearly told Kelley about Christen and Tobin's last night in Rio, but she stopped herself. She didn't want Kelley knowing.

(If Kelley knew, soon enough, the whole team would know.)

"Yeah?"

"I... I don't know. You're right, but it's just... it's really annoying, you know? I like her — I mean, I like her _so_ much, it literally drives me crazy just thinking about her — and she won't like me back."

"I know, Tobs. But being mean to her isn't going to make you two get any closer."

"Kelley, why the hell are you smiling?!"

"It's just cute that you like Press so much, I'm sorry!" Kelley laughed. Tobin frowned before asking, "But wait, let's circle back to that thing you said earlier... the 'maybe-Press-isn't-straight,' that whole thing? Yeah, where does that come from?"

"Oh, you know... college," Kelley said loftily with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Don't you worry about it." Kelley grabbed Tobin's hands and looked her straight in the eyes to get her attention.

"Seriously, Tobin, you've gotta stop doing those little digs at her. It's messing with her because she thinks you mean it. She thinks you hate her, you know."

Tobin was shocked.

All this time, Press had been... intimidated by her?

 _A job well done, Tobs. Nothing short of fantastic,_ she said to herself. She said nothing to Kelley.

Kelley continued, her voice earnest: "Just... cut it out, please. And as long as you start being nice to her, I'll do everything in my power to get you lovebirds together, even if it's the end of me. I've been shipping you two for years now!"

 _Yeah, I have, too,_ Tobin thought to herself sullenly.

_TOBIN PUSHED OPEN THE DOOR TO HER HOTEL ROOM AND FOUND CHRISTEN INSIDE. She was startled, especially to see that Christen was in just a towel, lying on the bed._

_"Oh, my—" Christen got up from the bed and put a finger to Tobin's lips to quiet her. Christen's hair was down and wavy, the way Tobin had always liked it best, and she wasn't wearing any makeup. Tobin loved that. She thought makeup was silly._

_Christen's eyes — God, those_ perfect _eyes — had a hint of mischief hidden inside them. Christen bit her lip and looked Tobin up and down. A small giggle escaped her._

_Then she grabbed Tobin by the collar of her jersey and almost threw her onto the bed. She had no idea Christen was that strong._

_Tobin's heart began to race._

_Christen reached for the hem of Tobin's jersey, tugging at it childishly, saying in a cute whine, "Come on, take it off."_

_"Christen, what the hell are you doing?" Tobin asked when she finally found words._

_Why would she question Christen's advances? She should just go with it._

_"God, Tobin... I want you."_

_Tobin shook her head. "No, this... This isn't supposed to happen. We shouldn't be doing this. Not here, not—"_

_"Now?" Christen laughed with a smile tugging at her lips. Her kissable lips. "Very funny."_

_"No, really, it's—"_

_"Would you just shut the hell up for once? I know you want me. I know how badly you want this. And I want it, too. I want it so bad, Tobin," Christen explained, her voice all breathy and..._

_Hot._

_Like, really, crazy, unimaginably hot._

_If Press really wanted this, Tobin certainly wasn't going to object. In_ _fact, she started to lean into it: "Oh, yeah?"_

 _Christen rolled her eyes, biting her lip. Now_ that _was sexy. She then straddled Tobin on the bed._

_"Don't play that game with me, Tobin. You know better." Christen slid her hand beneath Tobin's head and placed it on the back of her neck._

_Christen's face suddenly became so, so close to Tobin's. Just about an inch or so away._

_Tobin was about to go crazy._

_She had no idea Christen Press was such a goddamn tease._

_"Now take off your shirt, Heath," she commanded in a whisper. Tobin complied. She didn't want to know what would happen if she chose not to._

_Christen's fingertips traced Tobin's abs slowly, softly, and her hand made its way down to the waistband of Tobin's shorts. With a wicked little grin, Christen paused, then proceeded to yank Tobin's shorts down. They pooled at her ankles._

_Could this really be happening?_

_"Would you like to do the honors, or should I?" Christen asked as she looked down at the knot of her towel. Tobin swallowed hard. The towel clung tight to Christen's chest, and Tobin was more than eager to take it off for her._

_"I-I can do it," Tobin stuttered._

_"Lovely." Christen reached for Tobin's hand with her's. Grabbing her wrist, Christen guided Tobin's hand up, up, up, all the way to the knot of the towel, at an excruciatingly slow speed. Tobin was desperate to see Christen._

_Her fingers reached behind the knot, and they touched Christen's soft, warm skin underneath it. After just a moment's hesitation, Christen nodded, giving Tobin the go-ahead, so she quickly tugged—_

AND THEN SHE WOKE UP. It was the middle of the night. Tobin pushed the sweaty baby hairs on her forehead away. She sat up to catch her breath, to slow her heart rate, to get a grip.

Tobin needed to face the facts: Christen was still probably hung up on that guy. And no matter how much or how emphatically Kelley insisted, there was also probably no way that Christen was into women. It just... it didn't seem plausible.

But regardless of Christen's sexual orientation or her residual feelings, Tobin finally came to the realization that she'd fucked up. For years. It became clear that Christen didn't think that Tobin's "playful nutmegging," or her occasional roughhousing was playful at all, and that it just bothered her. How could Tobin have this little social awareness? She couldn't believe she had to be confronted by Kelley about this.

So Tobin would write a note. An apology. She leaned over to the nightstand to grab the hotel's notepad and pen. She was always the most honest in the middle of the night, and it was a perfect time to just get her feelings out—

She needed to apologize for the way she'd treated Christen over the past week.

Hell, over the past few years. 

How was Tobin _just_ coming to this realization?

It was wrong of her, it was mean, and more than that, it was unprofessional. Tobin shouldn't play these stupid games anymore. She was an adult.

So Tobin put pen to paper.

But she didn't quite know what to say.

"'Dear,' ugh, no," she mumbled to herself. God, Tobin couldn't even figure out how to start her note to Christen. 

Finally, after much contemplation and back-and-forth inside of her accompanied by far too many drafts, she pieced together one, semi-coherent note which got her point across well enough. Tobin was actually proud of it once she reread it for spelling and grammar: 

"Press—

I can't even begin to express how sorry I am for the way I've been treating you at this camp, and even way before that. I know you've noticed it, and everyone else has — even Jill — and it's not right of me to do that to you. You've been nothing but kind to me ever since we've met, and I shouldn't be trying to antagonize you for no reason. I'm not going to try and make excuses for my actions, because there is no excuse for my behavior toward you.

I sincerely apologize for the lack of professionalism I've displayed. I really hope you can find it in you to forgive me, even though I've treated you this way for so long now.

But if you're not ready for that, it's okay. I understand. I don't really think I deserve to be forgiven.

Maybe we could talk it out in person sometime?

Yours,

Tobin Heath #17

(P.S. I'm not mad because of the Olympics.)"

Tobin capped the pen and let out a sigh of relief. Ever since she was young, she found that writing letters was more effective than telling people things in person, so often times she'd just write her thoughts down instead. She then got up out of bed. 

She would hand-deliver it right now.

Tobin knew Christen was definitely asleep — Christen was one of those types who would _always_ go to bed at 10 o'clock, at the _very_ latest — and she didn't dare wake her up, so she slipped the note under the door and prayed that Christen would see it before she left tomorrow morning.

Boom.

Done.

Tobin could hardly fall asleep again as she thought of Christen reading her note. What would Christen think? Would she tear it up into little pieces dramatically like a movie? Would she accept her apology? It seemed there were endless possibilities.

Tobin just hoped that the outcome would be in her favor. 


	9. You Stress Me Out, You Kill Me (You Drag Me Down, You Mess Me Up)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title lyric of the chapter is from a banger by Louis "the Tommo" Tomlinson, called "Back To You (ft. Bebe Rexha)" :)  
> Go stream his new album everyone, Lou deserves so much more love than he gets!
> 
> We are back to Christen's POV. I'm glad you all liked Tobin's so much, but I'm just a bigger fan of writing from Christen's perspective. 
> 
> Thank you for the positivity on the last chapter, it was a very refreshing change from the chapter before it!!!!!
> 
> (I have a feeling this chapter might stir up some more controversy. Please take it easy on me...)
> 
> Without further ado, let's get right into it...

CHRISTEN COULDN'T REMEMBER A TIME WHEN SHE HAD EVER FELT MORE CONFUSED. She'd read Tobin's note probably ten or twelve times now, over and over again, poring over each word. An apology from Tobin Heath was absolutely unprecedented.

It was a total plot twist.

Christen had ran her index finger over Tobin's signature — the classic, iconic "Tobin Heath #17," the very signature that some people would probably pay thousands for — so many times now that the paper was beginning to wear thin. She subconsciously rolled the edges of the note between her fingertips as she read and reread, deep in thought, so much that the corners began to curl up tightly. 

What could this possibly mean?

This was _so_ not Tobin.

Christen couldn't quite tell if Tobin was attempting to call a truce or earn her friendship. Christen couldn't possibly forgive Tobin so easily, she said to herself as she rubbed the bruises on her shins that were courtesy of Tobin's work. Especially after what she'd been put through all these years, from 2013 until now. 

But she could try to be civil.

That could work.

At the very least, Tobin recognized that she wasn't deserving of forgiveness. This was the only indication to Christen that Tobin had even the slightest bit of self-awareness. Yet how come Tobin had always acted like this to her, for _years_ , and she was just now realizing her faults? Something _had_ to be said for that.

She paced around her hotel room, holding the note in one hand, biting her nails of the other hand.

When she switched hands, she'd made the mistake of bringing the note close to her face.

It smelled like Tobin.

Needless to say, Christen was more than taken aback that she'd recognized the scent instantly.

She recoiled and pushed the note onto her nightstand, face-down, not to be thought of again until she would begin her packing.

"HEY, PRESS," she'd heard from behind her as the team's final practice of camp wrapped up, accompanied by a light tap on the shoulder. Christen twirled around, her ponytail flying with her head. Tobin blinked Christen's hair out of her eyes. Christen laughed awkwardly. Tobin said nothing.

"You, um... did you get my... uh, my note?" She finally asked. Christen nodded wordlessly, unsure of what kind of confirmation Tobin wanted from her. 

"Oh, okay. Well, um... cool. Great," Tobin stammered. Her face was becoming redder by the second. Her eyes were downcast.

"Yep. Thank you for apologizing."

"Yeah, yeah... I-I should've, you know, done it before, but—" 

"I was surprised that you apologized at all, regardless of timing," Christen interrupted, her voice more bitter than she'd intended. "But, you know, thank you anyway." Tobin nodded and pursed her lips knowingly.

"Yeah... cool. Okay." _Are those the only three words Tobin can ever say?_ Christen wondered to herself. She suppressed a giggle as Tobin slowly departed from her.

"It just might be more awkward now than it was before," interjected a voice. It was Kelley's. 

"You knew about this?"

"Well, I mean, I... I kind of confronted Tobin about the way she treats you and stuff, so—"

Christen couldn't really tell why she was upset with Kelley, but she was bothered that Tobin now knew her feelings so completely. If anything, her feelings were the _only_ thing she could keep to herself at this point.

But Kelley didn't deserve Christen's harsh response: "God, Kelley, what gives you the right to just... I don't know, butt in like that?!"

"Jeez, Press, I'm sorry. I was sticking up for you. I couldn't let Tobin treat you like that any longer. It was killing me," Kelley insisted.

But Christen continued: "Now Tobin's going to think I'm some sort of weak little..." She hesitated before she spat out the next word. "I don't know... pussy!"

"Christen, she doesn't think that about you. You're driving yourself crazy." Kelley knew Christen was barely clinging to her sanity inside herself. She had to de-escalate this. Fast. 

"Kel, she wrote me this note. This-this awfully nice note about how she was sorry... for how she's treated me. And I was so, _so_ close to believing it. But I knew it. I knew it was too good to be true. And now I know that you influenced it, I'm just—" Christen's voice was breaking and her eyes began to water. God, this was _so_ frustrating.

"Press, what? Slow down, what note?"

"You... you didn't tell her to write a note?"

Now Christen was really baffled.

"No... what? That's some junior-high type shit right there. Man, Tobin's conflict resolution game is just... wow, _very_ mature," Kelley said to herself through a laugh. Christen looked up at her. She did not think this was funny in the slightest.

"I just don't know what it could mean," Christen said finally, lowering her voice, catching her breath. "What does she want from me?"

"Christen, Tobin Heath is just a girl. I don't know why you're so afraid of her, or why you think she somehow just, I don't know, _doesn't_ have genuine feelings or whatever, but—"

"Kelley, I'm beyond convinced she doesn't have feelings. I'm dead serious." 

"Okay, Christen, _now_ you're being ridiculous. You and Tobin Heath are both, you know, on the biological level, pretty much exactly the same. She has feelings. Sure, she's not in touch with them, but she has them. And she has a sense of judgment, however clouded it may be. Somehow, she convinced herself to write this note to you. On her own. No push from me, or Pinoe, or Carli, anyone. She did this herself."

"Doubtful," Christen said after thinking about it.

Kelley punched her in the arm. "Come on, Christen. Don't be shitty with me."

Maybe Kelley was right. Maybe Tobin did make this effort all on her own. It was unlikely, sure, but not out of the question entirely: Tobin had always been independent, and made decisions on her own very well and very decisively.

There was indeed a chance that Tobin's apology was really genuine.

"Christen, why do you always think the worst of people?" Kelley asked.

"I'm not convinced Tobin Heath is 'people,'" Christen said sullenly. "She's just slightly too good at everything to be 'people.'"

A grin tugged at Kelley's mouth. It was cute seeing how Christen was so intimidated by Tobin.

"Christen, you have to believe me on this one, just take my word for it: Tobin is a real person. She has feelings. She has epiphanies. Way too late, but she has them. And she knows when she fucks up big-time. This note you speak of is entirely her own work. Not mine or anyone else's. It's from her to you." Kelley and Christen looked intensely into each other's eyes. 

It was clear that Kelley was being very serious.

And that Tobin had apparently truly meant her apology.

SO CHRISTEN RESOLVED TO READING THE NOTE AGAIN. Just a few more dozen times, not a big deal. As soon as she returned to her room, she laid back in the bed — she should've been packing up her things, of course, but this was more urgent to her at the moment — and puzzled over each letter individually.

Tobin's harsh, scrawly handwriting, contrasted with her soft, apologetic words. 

"'Yours,'" Christen whispered to herself on repeat, reading Tobin's sign-off aloud. What did that mean, "yours," how was she supposed to interpret that?

Tobin was a hard code to crack.

But Christen was determined to get to the bottom of it.

So Christen wrote Tobin a short response (would this be how they interacted with each other, through written correspondence?) to lay out where she was at on the matter:

"Dear Tobin,

I want to thank you again for your apology. You have no idea how long I've waited to hear that from you, whether on paper or in person.

Really. I mean it.

I don't think I could honestly tell you it gave me closure, but I'm glad that it's been resolved.

However, I'm not sure if I'm ready to accept it yet; I'm stubborn, you know.

But if you give it some time... I'm pretty sure I'll come around.

Maybe.

Warmly,

Christen Press #12

(P.S. Please kindly disregard whatever Kelley told you. I mean, I shouldn't have to write it, because it's obvious, but... it would be appreciated.)"

Christen took a deep breath before making her way to Tobin's room to slip the note under the door, just like Tobin had done the night before.

But as Christen was just about to get back to her room, she heard a door open from behind her, and someone call her name down the hall: "Christen!"

She made the mistake of turning around. 

It was Tobin, with the note in hand. Christen felt her cheeks becoming flushed, and she slowly shuffled all the way back to Tobin's door, hanging her head. 

Tobin was coolly leaning in the doorframe as Christen arrived. Something about Tobin's pose and expression made Christen feel as though she were forced to explain herself, explain the note, what it meant. She began her clarification immediately: "Tobin, okay, wait, I—"

"Hey," Tobin called in a calm voice that made Christen stop in her tracks. "Thank you for this. I... I can live with 'maybe.'"

"Yeah? You... you can?" Christen's voice was very small. She always felt small when in the presence of Tobin. She didn't quite know what it was; Tobin was shorter than her, but there was something about Tobin's swagger and her essence that just made her seem larger.

Tobin nodded firmly, and extended her hand for a shake. Christen happily obliged.

Tobin meant business. Finally.

They smiled at each other, and for the first time, Christen noticed what a remarkably nice smile Tobin had: perfectly straight white teeth, an air of modesty, but lots of confidence. 

Maybe this would work.

Christen could live with maybe.


	10. I Don't Know What Else to Say, Can't Say it Another Way (I Love You)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title lyric is from "Ily" by HARBOUR, they're so underrated go stream them!!!!
> 
> Thank you for the continued support, sorry the wait time between these chapters has been so long!
> 
> This chapter begins with Tobin POV so I hope you guys enjoy thatttt  
> (I've got something up my sleeve for the next chapter, so stay tuned.)
> 
> But for now, let's get started...

WOULD SHE FIND IT WEIRD THAT I'M KEEPING HER NOTE? Tobin wondered to herself as she stashed Press's note away in a zippered pocket of her suitcase. The entire note screamed Christen, from the feminine, legible handwriting (that was so unlike Tobin's), the mild manner of her words, the cutest little descriptions of herself, and the sign-off. 

Tobin didn't quite know what to think of the sign-off, "warmly." When she read it over and over again, the same tingling sensation shot through her chest. It erupted through her veins, so fast that she thought she was able to feel the blood coursing through. She touched her hands to her cheeks to cool them down.

"Warmly."

Did Christen really mean it?

Tobin could hardly sleep at all that night; the image of Press's handwritten note was ingrained in her mind. 

BY NO MEANS WAS CHRISTEN TOTALLY SATISFIED BY THE SOLUTION THEY'D COME TO. Their pen-pal correspondence, although a solid start, didn't translate into them being any less awkward to each other in person.

And unfortunately, Tobin had a layover in Chicago as she made her way home back to Portland. 

And for some reason — probably just to mess with Christen — Julie insisted that the two of them would accompany Tobin while she waited for her flight home. As much as Tobin tried to reassure them, Julie knew that Tobin had gotten lost in a few too many airports a few too many times, and promised to stay with Tobin until she reached her gate, "just to be safe." 

And Julie had made the mistake of leaving the two of them alone. As she left for the bathroom, Christen and Tobin were stranded together as they waited for Julie's return.

Christen was sure she'd never experienced something as intensely awkward as small talk with Tobin Heath when Tobin asked abruptly, "So... um, h-how was your flight?"

"It— you know, it was... fine, thanks for asking," Christen responded politely. _Why would Tobin ask how my flight was if she was on the exact same flight?_

"Good to hear," Tobin replied, and that was that. The two of them stood next to each other silently. Tobin began to push Christen's carry-on bag in between her feet on the floor as if she were dribbling a soccer ball until Christen requested in a meek voice, "Please stop that." Tobin stopped.

Finally, after what seemed like years, Julie emerged from the bathroom. "Jeez, what's up with you two?"

Christen and Tobin had no answer for her, just shrugs. They followed Julie to the nearest Starbucks, and Tobin offered to take their orders.

"Julie?" 

"Just a Grande Iced Coffee, thanks," she said as she set her bags down. "Press, what about you?"

But Tobin recited her order from memory before Christen could even get a word in: "Tall Chai Latte, isn't it?"

Christen felt a little weirded out. Tobin was spot-on. "Um... yeah. That's it. Thanks."

"How did you know her order and not mine?" Julie demanded crossly.

Tobin smiled — it was that same sly smile that she'd given Christen just last night, that remarkably charming smile — and walked away. Christen imagined what it would be like to have a smile so damn charming that when people asked you questions, you could just smile and that was a good enough answer for them.

Julie laughed and said something to herself that was just out of Christen's earshot, but she didn't bother asking Julie to repeat. She was too tired to care.

_HANDS ALL OVER HER BODY. Labored, shallow breathing. Sweat. Bodies._

_A moan escaped Christen. She hated to admit it — she'd hardly ever made noises like that during sex before — but for some reason, she couldn't suppress it this time._

_"You like that?" asked a gruff voice. Christen's breath was caught in her throat, but she swallowed and responded through a gasp: "Yes."_

_"God, you're being so good," the voice said again, a pleasured emphasis on "good," and that rush coursed through Christen's body, giving her goosebumps instantly, even in spite of the heat. Nothing excited Christen more than words like that._

_A hand came up to push hair away from the side of her face. Christen still couldn't identify who this person was, but she knew she liked what they were doing. It seemed like they were incredibly experienced — whatever they were doing with their hands, their mouth, everything — it was somehow pushing all the right buttons for Christen._

_"You're incredible, Christen," murmured the voice. Christen bit down on her lip hard, forcing herself to hold back yet another moan. What was it about this person that was making Christen go crazy?_

_"Tell me again," Christen pleaded. "Say it."_

_"You're incredible," the voice repeated, before the person brought their head up. Finally, Christen would get a view of who this mystery person was._

_"You're incredible, Christen Press," said the voice once more. She was dying of curiosity now; Christen had to know who this was._

_She inhaled sharply as she met the person's eyes—_

_It was Tobin._

_Her hungry eyes. Her naughty, perfect smile._

_It was unmistakably Tobin Heath._

CHRISTEN AWOKE WITH A START. She was ridiculously frantic; trembling and breathing way too hard, way too fast. Anxious, embarrassed tears began to spill out of the corners of her eyes.

Christen was mortified.

She pushed her face into her pillow.

This couldn't be happening.

 _See, this is why you don't have_ _sex_ , Christen said to herself. _Because then you start having these awfully dirty, hot dreams—_

Christen curled her hands into fists, so hard that her nails dug into her palms, willing away the dirty thoughts. Gradually, the feeling of hands on her skin — the hands of Tobin Heath, apparently — began to fade away into the darkness of her bedroom, and the slick sweat all over her body turned cold. Her pulse finally slowed.

 _You're exhausted. You're sleep deprived,_ she told herself.

_This doesn't mean anything._

THE FOLLOWING DAYS PASSED BY SLOWLY, but months passed faster. Christen tried to forget about that embarrassing yet undeniably sexy dream she'd had about Tobin that night, but it was an unshakable thought. And when the next camp rolled around, Christen was somehow even more nervous to face Tobin, even though they'd made amends through the letters.

And when Tobin lightly palmed the small of Christen's back as she greeted her from behind, Christen practically jumped out of her skin.

"Whoa, sorry," Tobin said quickly, backing away from her. "I didn't—"

"No, no, it's fine," Christen replied with a small laugh to reassure Tobin. Her heart raced but she didn't know why. "I was just... surprised. That's all." Christen flashed Tobin a weak smile. 

That wasn't the last of the awkward encounters at camp.

For some reason, Tobin seemed to always have her hands on Christen — her shoulder, her back, her arm, wherever — and it was driving Christen wild.

She couldn't tell why she liked it, but she knew she did.

But almost every time, Christen's immediate response would be a flinch or a wince. Tobin had gotten plenty of laughs out of it, but Christen couldn't help but feel flustered: whenever she thought about Tobin touching her, she was reminded of the dream.

It was a vicious cycle.

"Trigger-happy today, aren't we?" Allie remarked to their scrimmage team when she saw how Christen reacted when Tobin grabbed her jersey. Christen's cheeks burned as she heard her teammates laugh, and she glared at Allie, who promptly backed off.

Christen was beginning to reach the end of her rope.

So Christen decided it would be best to return the favor — some jersey-grabbing here and there, even some subtle shoving whenever she got the chance.

Christen was sure that it would shut Tobin up. 

But she was wrong; Tobin would always push back twice as hard. And the subtlety was lost altogether. They'd almost come to blows by the time Jill got involved, red-carding Tobin for having executed a particularly harsh (but admittedly skillful) tackle.

Christen was past fed up now. She was full-on furious. One of her ankles felt a little sore when she got up from the pitch, and she'd received some noticeable turf burn on her knees, which were bleeding. She'd taken quite a fall. 

Jill called the two of them off the field, and it was easy to see that she was nothing short of livid.

"You two are going to have a conversation after practice," Jill told them firmly. 

It was incredibly clear that this wasn't going to end well of either of them.


	11. You're My, My, My... My Kind of Woman

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title lyric of the chapter is from one of my absolute favorite classic Mac DeMarco songs called "My Kind of Woman." (AKA what Christen is to Tobin.. oh yuck that was cringe)
> 
> Thank you again for the support!!! I know this is getting repetitive and all but I really do appreciate it <3
> 
> As promised, this chapter has a bit of a bombshell that I hope you all will enjoy. And it also happens to include the fic's namesake, which is what inspired much of the content!!!
> 
> So without further ado, let's begin...

TOBIN AND CHRISTEN ANXIOUSLY AWAITED THE VERDICT FROM JILL AS THEY TRUDGED OFF THE PITCH. Christen bit her nails; Tobin chewed the inside of her cheek. Neither acknowledged each other until they had nearly reached the doors of the locker room. Tobin broke the silence: "Hey, are you alright? Can I get—"

"Don't," Christen snapped. Feeling self-conscious, she wiped her knees with her palms, and was dismayed to find blood on them when she looked at them. She glared at Tobin. But though the wounds on her knees stung, her wounded pride hurt more.

Tobin had embarrassed her once again.

"Jeez, sorry," Tobin muttered when she caught Christen's eye. She opened the door for Christen in silence. Christen thought it was the end of it, but Tobin continued: "I didn't mean for it to—"

Christen decided she simply couldn’t keep it in any longer. She had to make her feelings known.

If their strained relationship was going to start interfering with her career, she had to nip it in the bud. As soon as the door closed behind them, she cleared her throat and worked up the confidence to deliver her feelings—

“God _damn_ , Tobin, would you please just shut the hell up?!”

Tobin was stunned at Christen's strong reaction. But she was nowhere close to finished. Christen went on:

“All you ever do is criticize me and the way I play. All I ever hear from you are your stupid corrections and explanations for things I already know how to do perfectly well. Whenever I screw up, you shake your head, and it’s ‘Oh, Chris, you should’ve done XYZ thing.’ Whenever I do something well, or something to your liking — since it’s become clear that it matters, for some reason — you say nothing. Or you tell me I should’ve been doing it earlier. I just can’t win with you, can I?”

Christen struggled to continue as her eyes brimmed with tears and her voice began to break. God, she always cried when she was worked up. It one of her weaknesses. The last thing she wanted right now was to cry in front of Tobin Heath. She took a shaky breath. “I have one question for you, Tobin. Will anything I do ever be enough for you?”

Christen decided that one question couldn’t express the way she’d felt for so long. She continued without missing a beat. “Can I ever meet your standards? How long is it going to be like this? The rest of our careers?”

“Chris, I’m sorry—” Tobin grabbed Christen’s wrist but Christen pulled away.

“‘Sorry’ doesn’t cut it, Tobin. You’ve been embarrassing me for years now, making me look stupid, like I’m bad at football — what I do for a goddamn living! What is your problem? What have I done to you to make you treat me like this?”

“Christen, please, I—”

“No, you let _me_ speak for once. I have _so_ much respect for the way you play, and you’ve treated me like… like _shit_ … since day one. You know, it would be nice if you acknowledged that I’m trying my best out here. I know you’re better than me. Everyone in the world knows you’re better than me. Tell me something I don’t already know.”

“Oh, I’ll tell you something you don’t already know," Tobin murmured.

At this point, Christen just wanted to punch the living daylights out of Tobin. Tobin was totally ignoring everything she was saying, and now she was mocking her, too. Christen was beyond frustrated, but out of the kindness of her heart, Christen let Tobin speak. She'd said enough for now. She'd let Tobin get a word in.

“Okay, you know what? Fine. Go ahead. Tell me.”

“I’m literally in love with you, Christen Press,” Tobin spilled through a breath.

Christen’s mouth hung open.

She could feel her face growing hot with anger. She could hardly find any words to say. “God, Tobin, I'm not even going to justify that statement with a response. I’m trying to stand up for myself, which is clearly really, _really_ hard for me, and-and you just treat me like some joke! You pull this kind of—”

“I’m not playing around, Chris. I’m dead serious. I… I'm in love with you.”

And Christen finally understood that Tobin was really not joking when she saw tears rolling down the sides of her face.

Christen felt her throat close up and her chest grow tight.

She knew Tobin was into women, but she never thought Tobin would be into someone so different from her. Or that Tobin would be into her... colleague. She thought Tobin was more professional than that, at the very least.

Tobin broke into choking sobs, her face in her hands. Christen was speechless. “I’m…” She caught herself as she began to apologize to Tobin. Why should she apologize? She’d never done anything to Tobin. But Christen didn’t know what to do.

She couldn’t comfort Tobin; they weren’t friends. They weren't _anything_.

They were colleagues. And that was it.

Christen lamely said, “I-I gotta go,” and left Tobin alone in the locker room.

THIS WAS ABSOLUTELY ABSURD. Christen was still mulling over Tobin's confession the entire bus ride back.

(Jill had told them that they would both be barred from playing during the rest of camp, and were limited to drills and strength training. Neither Tobin nor Christen argued with her. It was fair.)

Tobin's words repeated over and over in Christen's head, and no matter how hard she tried to believe them, it just seemed... ridiculous. 

She thought that Tobin was _totally_ settling for less. 

Tobin should be in love with someone consistent. Someone who impressed her, someone remarkable. Someone truly, undeniably special. _That_ was the kind of woman Tobin deserved. And as far as Christen was concerned, she was just another women's soccer player trying to make a name for herself to no avail.

 _Tobin should be in love with someone who doesn't miss Olympic PK's_ , Christen said to herself.

"Just what did Tobin say to you in there?" Mal had asked in a cautious voice when she went to deliver ice to Christen. But Christen only shook her head and said nothing.

It wasn't her secret to tell. She owed Tobin that much, at the very least.

But it made her wonder: did anyone else know about this? Was there something just blatantly obvious that Christen was missing? 

There couldn't be. Tobin had been cold to her since day one. Sure, they'd made amends through the letters just months ago — which Christen now questioned the authenticity of — but they were now back to square one, and Tobin had been excessively physical the entire week. It was exasperating.

So when Christen returned to her hotel room, she could only find one resolution to this debacle—

She would write Tobin a letter.

Christen didn't quite know what to say, but she had to at least help Tobin through processing what her feelings might be for Christen. They certainly were not feelings of love. There was simply no way. It just made no sense.

So Christen tried to express this in the nicest way possible:

"Dear Tobin—

I'm really flattered by what you said to me earlier. But I also think you might be mistaken.

I'm not the woman you should be falling in love with. To be completely honest, I wouldn't say I'm worth your time. You're crazy talented and incredibly determined, and it pays off; you're one of the best players I've seen on a soccer pitch, man or woman, ever. Really.

So I really think that you're not in love with me, but you're just doing your best to make a worthy opponent out of me. You're doing all of this to help me get better. And I'm really thankful for it, as much as we butt heads, because I think I am actually improving from it all. 

And believe me — I'm not trying to tell you how you feel, or put words in your mouth. I'm just trying to rationalize this entire situation. And there is no way someone as special as you should ever settle for someone mediocre like me.

Best regards,

Christen

(P.S. I hope you're ready to get your butt kicked in training tomorrow!)"

BUT SHE DIDN'T SEND IT. Christen was standing at Tobin's door, debating to herself, but she just couldn't bring herself to do it.

She had to consult someone about this.

So she folded the note up and decided to go to the only person who she felt comfortable explaining this entire situation to:

Kelley O'Hara.

As crazy as it seemed — talking to the most loose-lipped member of the team about a highly sensitive matter — Kelley and Christen went way back. Back to college. And something had to be said for that.

 _Yes, that's right_ , Christen reassured herself. _Kelley will know what to do._

_She always does._


	12. She Likes My American Smile, Like a Child, When Our Eyes Meet (Darling, I Fancy You)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the title of this chapter, I gender-bent a lyric from Taylor Swift's "London Boy" (to fit our circumstances here, obviously). It's definitely one of my favorites off of her newest album and wayyy under-streamed.
> 
> Also, this chapter is very Kelley-heavy, so any Kelley fans... you're very welcome. She's one of my favorite characters to write — yes, even more than Press and Tobs themselves — due to her distinct "fun older sister" personality.
> 
> This chapter is also a bit longer than the last few, a treat just for you guys since you've been so patient and supportive!! Thank you as always <3
> 
> Let's get on with it now, shall we?

CHRISTEN KNOCKED ON KELLEY'S DOOR AND PRAYED THAT NO ONE WAS INSIDE. She needed a one-on-one with her longtime teammate.

“Kelley, it’s Chris. And it’s an urgent situation,” she said firmly, almost pressing her face to the door. She didn’t want to yell but she absolutely needed to see Kelley.

Christen heard shuffling behind the door and Kelley opened it quickly for her. Christen rushed in and was relieved to see that no one else was there. Kelley was confused. “What, do you need to pee or something?”

“No, more important than that.” Kelley raised her eyebrows as she saw Christen flop on her bed dramatically, stuffing her face into the hotel’s pillows. Christen was _never_ dramatic. She’d always tried her best to not be. It was then when Kelley figured that it really was truly an urgent situation.

“Talk to me, Press. What’s going on? Did you work out that thing with Tobin?”

“Oh, God, Kel. It’s bad. It’s really, really bad.” Christen’s voice was muffled but Kelley was able to make out the desperation in her tone.

“What happened? What did she do?” Christen took a deep breath into Kelley’s pillow and finally rolled over onto her back. “She told me that she was in love with me, Kelley. What am I supposed to do with that?”

Kelley seemed suspiciously composed. There was no reaction in her face. Christen was mystified. “Hello? Did you hear what I said? That Tobin Heath is in love with me?”

“Yeah, yeah, I heard you.” Kelley sat down on the bed next to Christen and started to laugh to herself.

“It’s not funny, Kelley.”

“That’s what you think. Press, don’t take this the wrong way, but you are absolutely terrible at reading people. You would single-handedly run the psychic industry out of business. That’s how bad you are.”

“I don’t see your point,” Christen said flatly.

“Damn, now I owe Becky like…” Kelley counted on her fingers. “ _Fifty_ dollars, shit! Ugh, but that means we also have to tell her.”

“Kelley? I’m still not following here.”

“Oh, okay. So here’s the thing: Tobin has been in love with you for years, dude. Since you joined the team. Probably since your first cap. Everyone knows. She hasn’t told anyone, but we can all see it. It’s crazy obvious.”

“How is it obvious?”

“Um, she always talks about you. And how you play. Every other word that comes out of Tobin’s mouth is about you.”

“Yeah, she’s always criticizing me.”

“Oh, but you don’t hear her on the sidelines. Oh, my God, whenever anyone sits next to her on the sidelines, she’s like, ‘all yours, Press!’ or ‘you got it, Chris!’ It’s actually kind of adorable. We should mic her up or something so you can hear it.”

Christen was still skeptical; Kelley could see it in her face. “Um, also, the way she looks at you? Her eyes just, bam, light up. Instantly. Also, um… don’t you ever see her looking at you in the locker room? She wants you so bad.”

Christen thought back to all the times she’d caught Tobin looking at her, but Tobin had always looked… judgmental. Whenever Christen and Tobin made eye contact in those situations, Tobin would shake her head disapprovingly and turn away.

But it was starting to make a little more sense to her.

“Wait, hold on. Why do you owe Becky money now?”

“In 2013, when you first started, Becky and I made a bet: she gets twenty dollars if Tobin Heath directly confesses her feelings to Christen Press, and I get twenty dollars if she didn’t. To spice it up, every year, we’ve added on ten dollars.”

“Okay, well, stop right there, because we are _not_ telling Becky about this. Or anyone else. Do you hear me, Kelley? I’m dead serious.”

“Well, hold on. How are you so convinced that you don’t like Tobin?”

“What? Wait, first you have to promise not to tell.”

“Fine, I promise. But think about it, Press. You’ve been obsessed with gaining Tobin’s approval since day one. I’m pretty sure you watch her highlight reels more than she does. Even more than Jill does, who is, if I may add, the freaking head coach.”

“I just… I just want to play like her, that’s all,” Christen stammered.

“Why do you want to play like her? You play awesome the way you already play. If you weren’t trying to impress Tobin, why would you be trying to change yourself for her? Christen, that’s what girls do when they have crushes.” Kelley sighed. “I don’t know why you’re resisting this. It would be so much fun to have two couples on the team. I don’t care if Jill says one is already too many. You two would be so cute together, like _the_ cutest.”

Christen didn't quite know what to make of Kelley's words.

“Okay. I want you to close your eyes. Take a deep breath.” Christen followed Kelley’s instructions. “Now, I want you to tell me all the things you like about Tobin Heath. Go.”

“What? This is stupid. I don’t like anything about Tobin. She’s always mean to me.”

(Christen could feel herself lying through her teeth. There were plenty of things she liked about Tobin.)

“I’m sure you like _something_ about her. You have to. Why would you be forcing yourself to emulate her if you didn’t like her? Go on, tell me what you like about her,” Kelley said, her voice dropping to a soothing tone.

“Fine. I like the way she plays.”

Kelley shook her head. “Christen, tell me how you graduated from Stanford again.”

“Okay, jeez. Um… I wish I could think like her. She always knows what she’s doing, and no one else does, and her plays almost always work, every time.”

“Yeah? What else?”

“I like… I like that she works hard. I have a lot of respect for that. Oh, um, she works hard and does the thing that she loves the most for a living.”

“Chris, you’re just describing yourself. Dig deeper. Are there any, you know, physical aspects you like about her?”

“I like…” _Her muscular arms_ , Christen wanted to blurt out. _Her broad smile. Her hair. Her warm eyes. God, her abs._ Christen finally came to and answered Kelley through a sigh. “Her legs. She’s always had better legs than me.”

“Okay, good. That’s good.”

“Why are you trying to push this on me anyway? I’m not even into girls, remember?”

“Christen Press, I’ve seen you make out with more than your fair share of girls, and from what I can recall, you were enjoying yourself.”

Christen didn't directly deny this, and lamely came back with, “I was also drunk, though.”

“I’ve known you since you were 18 years old, and I know you have never been blackout drunk in your entire life. Straight girls only kiss other girls when a) dared to, or b) blackout. You were always just kinda… offering yourself.”

“You’re not really painting me in the best light here. I sound like some prostitute.”

“God, you know what I mean! I know you’re into guys, and I have no doubt that you could live the rest of your life happily only having been with guys, but I’m around 99% sure you’re into girls, too. This is coming from a girl who likes girls. I have gaydar, Christen. It’s one of my many superpowers.”

Christen sat up slowly, unsure of what to make of this epiphany.

Had she really been masking her true feelings through obsession this whole time?

“Thank you for this, Kelley. Now I’m even more confused than when I walked in.”

“You’re very welcome, my dear.”

As Christen went to the door to let herself out, Kelley called to her, “Don’t overthink it, Press! That’s your superpower, apparently.”

Christen could hear Kelley laughing to herself as she closed the door quietly and made her way to her room.

CHRISTEN DIDN'T HEED KELLEY'S ADVICE; she overthought it, as per usual. She laid down on her hotel bed in the dark and thought about it for what seemed like at least a few hours. She couldn't fall asleep before working out some of this confusion.

In a way, Christen was almost glad Kelley had brought up the whole "being into girls" thing; Christen had recently been having this persistent thought in the back of her head—

That it seemed likely she was attracted to girls in the same way she was attracted to guys.

Romantically. Sexually.

Tobin was pretty, and from Christen's perspective, there was no denying it. Christen didn't really know what exactly she found attractive about Tobin — Tobin was always thought of to be one of the more generic-looking players who went relatively unnoticed, appearances-wise — but there was always something about her that Christen was incredibly drawn to.

It was that damn smile.

Christen was never a fan of her own smile, even though she did it a hell of a lot.

But Tobin's... Tobin's smile was so classic, so attractive, _so_ perfect.

Whenever Tobin smiled — and genuine Tobin Heath smiles were hard to come by — her whole face changed: she got those happiness lines by the corners of her eyes, her nose scrunched up a little, and not to mention those dimples.

Christen could think about Tobin's smile all night. She could easily say Tobin's smile was cute.

(Maybe even more than cute. Maybe even, who knows, "to die for," perhaps?)

Christen imagined falling in love with Tobin. Falling hard for her. It wouldn't be hard to do. She was charming, and she was even a little funny. Passionate, hard-working... the list went on. The more she thought about it, the more vivid the picture in her head became.

But Tobin was off-limits. She reminded herself of what Kelley had said, that Jill thought that one couple on the team was already too many. And then that ideal picture of a life with Tobin started to fade away.

Even if Tobin was really in love with her — which would be truly very surprising — and if Christen were really in love with Tobin, it didn't necessarily mean they could be together.

Christen sighed listlessly. There were simply far too many contingencies which only seemed to emphasize the fact that this entire situation was wildly unrealistic, and that it was all just a meaningless hypothetical.

Maybe it really just wasn't meant to be.

For now, at least.

She rolled over in her bed, finally shutting her eyes, and fell asleep to the image of Tobin's smile ingrained in her mind.

She could at least _dream_ that she and Tobin were together.


	13. Your Lips, My Lips... Apocalypse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title lyric of the chapter comes from "Apocalypse" by Cigarettes After Sex. Their music is beautiful, go listen to them!!! Nice sleepy time tunes.
> 
> The chapter's title also may or may not be foreshadowing what will be occurring...  
> (Also note that it is April 2017 now, which is relevant to the story.)
> 
> Thank you all so much for your continued support it means so much to me!!!!
> 
> This chapter is a little more lighthearted after the recent events between Tobs and Chris. Hope you enjoy!!!

THE WHOLE TEAM WAS PLANNING MALLORY'S GOING AWAY PARTY. She wasn't really going anywhere, but she was leaving the UCLA Bruins to play pro full-time. It was a daunting decision, one Christen knew she never could've made herself, but Mal was like that: she was always a risk-taker.

It was right for her.

Everyone on the team was incredibly supportive of Mal's choice. It felt right. It was meant to be for Mal. And Christen couldn't be more proud of her teammate, the whiz kid that had become almost like her very own baby sister. Christen had spent her entire childhood being the baby. It was nice to have someone else be the baby for a change.

Kelley was made in charge of planning — which, surprisingly, she was awfully good at — and planned for it to be the last night of their April camp. All the girls pitched in about a hundred bucks or so to buy two adjacent suites at the hotel (to have a team sleepover, of course), cake, decorations, and everything in between.

Everyone wanted to go all out for Mal.

It was only right; she deserved it more than anyone.

At the last practice of camp, Christen was beyond excited for the night. She was overjoyed that Mal would finally be her teammate full-time, and everyone knew that if it was a Kelley party, it was going to be a good time.

"Press, you can help me set up, right?" Kelley asked as they sat down next to each other in the locker room unlacing their boots. "I've already got someone but I need one more."

"Yes, totally," Christen agreed. "I'd be more than happy to help."

WHAT CHRISTEN DIDN'T REALIZE WAS THAT THE PERSON KELLEY HAD ENLISTED WAS TOBIN. Things had been awkward between Tobin and Christen since Tobin's admission: neither of them really knew where they stood with each other, and neither of them were upfront enough to confront it.

They'd barely said a dozen words to each other since.

Christen never ended up sending the letter.

Why was Kelley doing this to them? As far as Christen was concerned, Kelley was the _only_ person on the whole team who knew about Tobin's confession, so she would've known this would be a sensitive situation.

She was probably doing this to play a joke on the two of them.

"Kelley, what's with the champagne?" Christen demanded as she looked through the plastic shopping bags. "She's 18 years old! What do you think you're doing?!"

"Easy, Chris, it's a celebration! And it's not like she hasn't drank before. She _did_ go to college for a semester."

"Still, though," Christen murmured disapprovingly.

"Just let Mal have some fun," Tobin said out of nowhere. "She's only gonna be 18 once, who cares?"

Christen didn't think that Tobin would've approved of this, but clearly, she didn't know Tobin very well at all, if she were completely oblivious to the fact that Tobin had been in love with her for years. Maybe Christen really was bad at reading people.

"Tobin's right, Christen. Plus, 18 is the drinking age in Canada. Just pretend we're 500 miles north," Kelley added. Tobin mounted a desk chair and stood on her tiptoes to hang crepe paper streamers from the ceiling.

Christen almost thought it was cute, but she caught herself.

How come lately she'd been thinking _everything_ Tobin did was cute?

"Gotta get some ice, I'll be back," Kelley said as she left Tobin and Christen in a suite alone together.

Christen watched Tobin methodically tape the ends of the streamers to the ceiling, ripping it with her teeth as she went along, pushing herself forward on the chair as she went. But as Tobin's weight settled in the seat of the chair, the chair spun out from underneath her—

And somehow, Tobin fell right into Christen's outstretched arms, which were ready to catch her. Tobin found her own arms wrapped around Christen's neck and her heart beating so, so fast. She wasn't sure if it was because of the suddenness of the fall or how her face was so close to Christen's now.

"Hasn't anyone ever told you to not stand on chairs?" Christen chided in Tobin's ear, unsure of what else she could say to her in the moment. Their silence was unbearably awkward as they broke away from one another.

"Especially chairs with wheels," she continued through a breath, "It's very dangerous."

"Yeah, I... I know." The entire situation was a thousand times more awkward once Christen remembered what Tobin had said to her at last camp. 

Tobin's words repeated themselves again in Christen's mind: _I'm literally in love with you, Christen Press._ The desperation. The authenticity.

Christen could remember exactly what it sounded like. 

The truth had a way with sticking in her brain.

KELLEY'S PARTY WAS A HIT. No one else seemed to be bothered by the alcohol — except Carli, but only because she had a very protective side to her as their captain — and everyone was having a good time.

Christen was drinking a little herself. She wasn't one for drinking most of the time, but today was celebratory, so she made an exception.

It was past midnight when Kelley brought out the second round of "refreshments"—

Hard alcohol.

Christen's insides began to flutter as she caught sight of the tequila.

At this point, it was a visceral reaction.

Kelley knew it, too, and she subtly pushed Christen toward it. She knew what it did to her.

Kelley knew that Christen was interested in playing this game again... she could never resist it.

"Christen, whaddya think... could I interest you in a shot?" Kelley asked, waving the bottle of Patron in front of Christen's face enticingly. Christen could feel her face was warmer than usual, and she was definitely past tipsy, past buzzed, and yet, Kelley knew her too well—

Christen accepted without hesitation.

The fluttery feeling grew as she watched her teammates' faces as she easily tossed back the tequila, and it grew even more as she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and the crowd erupted in cheers.

That feeling was always one and the same.

It was addictive.

(Christen was especially conscious of Tobin's eyes on her. It was a gaze of awe and approval. Christen couldn't keep a grin off her face.)

It was then when Kelley decided to have the girls play drunken party games, starting with Spin the Bottle.

"God, how old are we, 13?" Carli scoffed at the suggestion. She was the only one still remotely sober and offered to be the bottle-spinner (and not play).

Mal was up first. The rest of the team sat around in a circle with their legs crossed like kindergartners. Carli spun the empty champagne bottle. Anticipation grew as its rotations slowed. 

It landed on the Great Horan, of all people.

Everyone laughed. It was only strange because Lindsey and Mal were practically sisters, but they were both good sports about it.

The bottle was passed on to Julie, who was sitting next to her. Carli spun the bottle, and round and round it went, before settling on Alex, who grinned. It was almost ironic — the recently engaged player was kissing the player who was happily married — but regardless, the others encouraged them.

"Don't tell Zach!" Julie exclaimed jokingly as she leaned in towards her teammate.

(Christen found it to be a strangely exciting coincidence that the two prettiest players on the team were paired together, but hey, you can't deny the bottle.)

The pairings that ensued were funnier: Crystal and Moe, Kelley and Becky.

But next to Kelley sat Tobin. 

"All right, Heath, let's see..." Carli said as her hand twisted the bottle on the floor. Christen watched the bottle pass her once, twice, three times, each time feeling choked with nervousness.

The room fell silent as the bottle ended up at Christen's feet.

Christen looked up at Tobin, who was wringing her hands. When they made eye contact, Tobin mouthed, _You don't have to do this._

But who was she to keep Tobin from her desires?

Grinning nonchalantly, she mouthed back, _Take it easy, Heath._

The two leaned in toward each other from opposite ends of the circle and Christen rested her hands on the back of Tobin's neck.

"Ready?" Tobin asked.

Christen nodded, and their lips met.

For some reason, Christen could suddenly feel the blood coursing through her veins, and she could feel her heart pounding in her chest. She was wildly aware of the tingling feeling on every square inch of her skin, but oddly, was able to tune out just about everything else around them. She was ready to melt into the floor.

Their kiss lasted slightly longer than all the others before them, but not suspiciously so. When they broke away, Tobin wore a genuine Tobin Heath smile — that smile that Christen obsessed over — and said:

"Whoa, Press... you're really good."

Tobin's words rattled her. She felt her insides beginning to ripple, almost, and it was _that_ feeling. She couldn't control it. But somehow, she put together a coherent, even slick sentence: "Well, Heath, you're not the first girl I've kissed." Cheers erupted from the room.

As Kelley delved into some of Christen's drunken college stories, Christen couldn't seem to keep a smile off her face.

Why did it seem like kissing Tobin was... different?

For the rest of the night, Christen kept replaying that moment, that moment when their faces met and how it felt nothing short of electric. She couldn't remember the last time she'd felt like that while kissing someone, if ever.

She knew she needed more.

IT WAS PAST TWO IN THE MORNING WHEN THE GIRLS STARTED TO SETTLE DOWN. Christen was way past her limit, and she was practically a walking zombie at this point, since she was usually in bed by no later 10:30, seven days a week. She found herself barely able to keep her eyes open.

There were four queen beds and two pullout couches to be shared between the 18 players. Being the two biggest players there, Mewis and Lindsey got to share a bed between just the two of them, but the rest of the beds slept three.

Thankfully, Carli elected to go back to her own hotel room, so no one had to sleep on the floor. But there was no denying it was still close quarters: most of the players were 5'7 at least, with the exceptions of Mal and Kelley. It would be a tight squeeze.

Christen was the first to fall asleep. It was almost expected of her, since everyone knew her habits. She settled down into a bed and couldn't resist the heaviness of impending sleep on her eyelids any longer. She was out, and no one could stop her.

BEFORE SHE EVEN OPENED HER EYES, she could hear swarms of giggles around her. She didn't want to wake up — her head hurt like hell, for one thing — and it was mostly due to the fact that she felt so cozy and warm in the bed. She tried her best to ignore the noise, but soon enough, someone began poking her in the arm, murmuring, "Christen. Christen, wake up."

She groaned as her eyes were finally exposed to the light. God, she felt _awful_ — she hadn't had a hangover like this since Sweden.

But she immediately snapped awake and sat right up when she saw who was in front of her.

Tobin Heath.

Christen had been practically spooning with Tobin Heath.

She'd assumed it was a pillow that her arms were wrapped around, that she was clinging to.

It just happened to be a very warm, muscular, female pillow, with long, soft brown hair.

And there were plenty of spectators.

Mal, Kelley, Lindsey, and Crystal were all standing by Christen's side of the bed, unable to keep themselves from laughing, their phones out to take pictures.

Christen would never live this down.

Christen's cheeks burned as she backed away from Tobin, who was thankfully still asleep. "Would you all stop taking pictures?" she asked crossly, swatting at her paparazzi, who all deftly escaped her. 

"No way, Big Spoon," Kelley teased. Christen was usually faster than Kelley, but Kelley responded to alcohol better than Christen. Christen chased Kelley across the room to snatch her phone away from her. All evidence of this _had_ to be deleted.

"What is with all the noise?" Tobin asked as she awoke, her voice tired and raspy and... hot. Kelley stopped running and instead asked Tobin, "So, how'd you sleep?"

"Really good, actually, thanks."

"Hmm. Interesting," Kelley murmured, eyebrows raised at Christen, who scowled back at her.

This was really beginning to turn into a mess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to be honest — I'm not super proud of this chapter.
> 
> I'm going to keep writing this fic, but I'm not quite sure what direction to take it in... but I hope you guys enjoy the content regardless. I have to work on storyboarding the potential outcomes some more, etc., so there'll probably be some filler-type chapters as I'm trying to figure things out.
> 
> (I know that fic is usually written from plot point to plot point, but with the way I've characterized Tobin and Christen, I can't quite naturally have them couple up so soon, and some more relationship-building is undoubtedly required.)
> 
> Your patience is appreciated :)))  
> I will work my hardest!!!!


	14. I Can Be Needy, Way Too Damn Needy (Tell Me How Good It Feels to Be Needed)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song lyric for this chapter's title is of COURSE "needy" by Ariana Grande. Such a good song ahhh :))
> 
> This chapter is a bit *saucier* than chapters previous which I hope you will like, and it takes place in August 2017.
> 
> Fun fact: all the stats from this game I've written into the chapter are actually real-life stats, Google it!
> 
> Anyway, hope you all like this one...

THE SEASONS CHANGED AND CHRISTEN TRIED TO FORGET THAT FEELING.

That feeling from her kiss with Tobin.

How it was unlike all the other kisses from her past.

Tobin kept injuring her back, which kept the two away from each for the most part, but whenever they saw each other in passing, it was always slightly awkward. But it got easier with time — or she at least tried to convince herself so.

It was late in the summer when the Portland Thorns came to town, and Christen had been stressing about it for weeks. She'd trained harder and harder each day, winding herself with full-field sprints, leaving her legs aching after each practice. She wouldn't give up. She had to show Tobin how much she'd improved.

Christen knew Tobin wouldn't be playing this match, but she'd definitely be there, sitting on that bench, watching with that intense stare she had. Christen's pulse sped up just imagining it.

It had been four months since the kiss.

Four whole months and Christen had yet to satisfy her craving for Tobin Heath.

She was about to go crazy.

Luckily, she had an occasion to see Tobin outside of the game: Kling had invited her, JJ, and Alyssa out to dinner at the hotel the Portland team was staying at for a little USWNT get-together.

Which meant that there was no doubt Tobin would be there.

And Christen had to take her shot.

"JEEZ, PRESS, WHAT IS UP WITH YOU?" Julie asked, her voice concerned for her teammate. Christen had stopped dead in her tracks as she saw them.

The Portland Thorns were walking onto the pitch. 

And there Tobin was, walking alongside them, her Tobin Heath smile displayed for everyone to see.

Christen's heart lurched, and her breath caught in her throat. The ball that was passed to her rolled past her feet, but she didn't even notice. 

Tobin had arrived.

This was probably going to end up a nightmare.

"Hello? Christen? You okay?" Julie continued, waving a hand in front of Christen's face. She snapped out of it eventually and responded, "Yeah, I'm great."

"Nervous?"

"I..." Christen didn't quite know how to respond. "I guess you could say so."

THE GAME WAS GOING POORLY, TO SAY THE LEAST. Christen was out of it; anyone could plainly see. As hard as she'd been working lately, it seemed that she couldn't get a handle on the ball quite right. She was distant. Her mind was elsewhere.

In quick succession, two goals were scored on the Red Stars. They were down by two within the first ten minutes. Christen could almost feel Tobin's gaze on her, and her anxiety heightened. She became suddenly aware of everything around her. She was close to manic. 

Somehow, like a godsend, the ball came towards her, and she nearly tripped on it as she tried to get a touch in. She forced herself to think clearly, to come to her senses.

_Come on, this is natural. Take it up the field and kick it._

As she neared the goal, her confidence grew. She knowingly kicked to Ad's weak side.

And she made it in.

Christen Press #23, at 16 minutes, scored for the Chicago Red Stars. The score was now 1-2. They couldn't back down, of course, but finally, she could breathe again.

She looked over to the away team bench and saw Tobin standing up and looking straight at her with a Tobin Heath smile. Christen gave a small wave; Tobin gave her a double-thumbs up.

Christen nearly lost it right that minute.

And at that moment Christen realized that her and Kelley's sneaking suspicion that Christen was into girls, too, was beginning to become a reality.

UNFORTUNATELY, CHRISTEN, JULIE, AND ALYSSA COULDN'T GO TO DINNER VICTORIOUS. In the second half, Sonnett scored early on, and the Red Stars just couldn't catch up. Chicago ended up losing 2-3.

It was irritating, but at least it was a compromise this way: Christen would score, but Tobin would still win, even if she couldn't play.

Christen knew Tobin hated losing just as much as her, and Tobin hated it even more when she couldn't do anything to stop it.

The restaurant at the hotel was pretty casual, yet Christen felt underdressed in Tobin's presence. Christen and the other Chicago players went around the table greeting each of their WNT teammates with hugs, but when Christen arrived at Tobin, Tobin whispered in her ear—

"That was a nice goal, Press."

Goosebumps ran up and down Christen's arms.

These visceral reactions just wouldn't quit.

Christen struggled to thank Tobin for the compliment as she always did. She was flustered out of her mind. Her legs were shaky as she walked in her heels toward the nearest vacant chair to sit down.

She was overthinking it, as always.

Throughout dinner, Tobin and Christen kept stealing glances at one another across the table, occasionally making awkward eye contact. Neither of them would admit they were watching the other's movements. Christen could barely eat, her stomach was so knotted from nervousness.

She didn't even realize that Tobin was the same.

But in spite of the weirdness between them, the dinner was overall really nice. Christen hadn't seen Meghan in a while, for one, and even though Sonnett had snuck in a goal earlier, Christen hadn't seen her for a long time (she'd been in a weird slump recently and hadn't attended camp since earlier in the year), so it was nice to see her too.

This left Ad — who mostly just talked with Naeher — and Lindsey.

Lindsey was there at Mal's party.

Lindsey took pictures of Christen and Tobin.

Lindsey saw them kiss.

Christen and Lindsey weren't close, despite Lindsey and Mal being best friends. However, since Lindsey didn't act like anything was out of the ordinary, Christen decided to be the same, and treated her as usual. Neither Lindsey nor Christen (nor Tobin, for that matter) brought up the events at Mal's party.

Christen was relieved when the check finally came around.

Julie and Alyssa split a cab since their apartments were in the same direction, but Christen's was in the opposite, so she encouraged her teammates to go home before her. Kling, Ad, Sonnett, and Lindsey made their way back up to their rooms, but Tobin — being Tobin, of course — forgot her phone at the restaurant, and had to go back for it.

Christen was still in the lobby when Tobin returned, but everyone else was gone.

"Hey," Tobin said in a quiet voice. "I... uh, I-I missed you."

It took all the muscles in Christen's face to not break out into a huge grin.

"Let me walk you up to your room," Christen offered, not even thinking about the words before they came out of her mouth.

Tobin agreed with a simple nod.

Christen and Tobin's shoulders were brushing against each other as they waited for the elevator to come down. "I'm on the ninth floor, by the way," Tobin provided.

But Christen ignored her.

As soon as they walked into the elevator car, Christen repeatedly punched the "close" button with her finger before pressing on the top floor.

The 34th floor.

"I said ninth—"

In an instant, Christen maneuvered Tobin into a corner.

This wasn't even a matter of attraction anymore—

It was a matter of satisfying needs.

Christen had needed this for months now.

And right now was Christen's only chance. She _had_ to. If she didn't do this now, when would be the next time she could catch Tobin alone?

"Tobin Heath, if you don't shut up right this instant and kiss me, I swear I'm gonna lose it," Christen warned in a low voice, her face inches away from Tobin's.

"I—"

As the elevator started to rise, Christen went in for the kill. She couldn't resist any longer.

And Tobin wasn't fighting it.

That feeling returned to Christen's insides again, that fluttery sensation that she was addicted to.

Tobin was the only one who could really ignite it within Christen now.

Christen thought that kissing Tobin just that one time was good enough. But making out with her in an elevator?

That was a million times better.

She wanted to remember every single element of it: Tobin's slow but eager rhythm and her hands sliding down Christen's back, making their way to her waist. Goosebumps everywhere, on every square inch of her skin. Sweat. Heat.

When the elevator reached the 34th floor, Christen and Tobin were forced to break away from one another. Both were out of breath.

From each side of the elevator, they smiled at each other.

Both were hungry for more.

Reluctantly, Tobin pressed the button for the ninth floor, which only made Christen feel an urge to speed it up with Tobin.

Instead of 34 floors, they now only had 25.

Time was of the essence.

Somehow, Christen found her hands desperately pulling at Tobin's shirt, untucking it from her pants.

Christen's hands traveled up Tobin's body inside her shirt, her fingers on Tobin's bare skin that was hot to the touch.

But the elevator dinged. 

Time was up.

And they had to say goodbye.

Christen and Tobin walked to Tobin's room as though nothing had happened, side by side, holding each other's pinky fingers in lieu of holding hands. They couldn't do _that_.

"When am I gonna see you again, Press?" Tobin asked through a breath once they arrived at her room. "When's our next match?"

"I don't know," Christen replied, feeling suddenly inferior and almost embarrassed.

She was embarrassed that she'd been so overtaken by lust just mere minutes ago. She let it take over her body. She let it make decisions for her. Who was she becoming?

"I-I mean, um," Tobin stuttered, "you're welcome to come in—"

"No, I... I can't," Christen said quickly. She couldn't give into Tobin so easily. Tobin was experienced with women; who knew what she could do to Christen and her innocence. Tobin looked up at Christen quizzically.

"I've... we've got training, um, sort of early tomorrow. Lifting. So I've got to get home," Christen explained lamely. She didn't know why she was denying herself of this opportunity. 

"Oh, okay," Tobin responded, trying to hide her disappointment. "That's... I get it. Okay."

"I guess I'll see you around then, Heath."

"Yeah, you too." Tobin smiled weakly at Christen, who didn't want her to close that door.

But she did.

That was how it had to be. 

Both of them knew this shouldn't become some kind of a habit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for the support on the last chapter! Luckily, I've made a game plan for the next few chapters, so I hope you all like what I have in store for you.
> 
> Xoxo


	15. She's so Bad for Me, and I Can't Help It (It's Too Hard to See a Way Around It)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title lyric of the chapter is from Anarbor's "Can't Help It" which is one of my all-time favorite songs.  
> Please please PLEASE listen to it, just thinking about the song makes me smile.
> 
> (Yes, I'm a *little* crazy...)
> 
> I've got some Tobin POV in this chapter, which I haven't written in a while (I realize now as I'm writing this A/N...), so I hope you all appreciate.
> 
> So without further ado, let's get on with the story now...

CONFUSION WAS THE ONLY EMOTION TOBIN COULD FEEL THROUGHOUT THE ENSUING MONTH. How was she supposed to interpret that... incident? How could she face Christen at the game tonight?

So Christen really was into girls like Kelley had said.

Or was she? Tobin didn't even know the answer to _that_.

Tobin couldn't wrap her head around the matter, but she knew the facts: Christen Press had indeed pinned her up against a wall and made out with her.

Which was what Tobin had been dreaming about for as long as she'd known Christen.

Maybe wishes really did come true.

NEITHER TOBIN NOR CHRISTEN HAD A GOOD GAME THAT NIGHT. The Thorns ended up winning 3-1 — no shock there, since they were well on their way to becoming the champs of the NWSL that year — but Christen wasn't even the goalscorer that night. 

She didn't even _start_ , for God's sakes.

She wondered if Tobin would have any interest making out with a loser like her.

Probably not. 

She'd probably driven Tobin away entirely after their makeout session in the elevator last month. Tobin was probably weirded out by her, or thought Christen was a flat-out freak.

(And not in the way that Kelley O'Hara would be thinking of the word "freak.")

But of course — of _course_ — JJ just _had_ to go ahead and arrange a dinner for all of them since Kling had done the same last month. Christen was a tangled mess of nervous energy during the entire game, and her anxiety only heightened when she realized she had to go out to dinner.

Christen wasn't good at social functions; she never had been, and never would be.

She was even worse at them when Tobin was there.

Christen's hands were shaking as she saw Tobin walk through the door, and her mouth became dry as Tobin neared her.

"Hey, Christen," Tobin said as nonchalant as ever.

Hearing her own name come out of Tobin's mouth was enough to drive her insane.

Christen scrambled to find words that made enough sense. "I... I'm glad you've recovered from your injury."

Tobin's face broke out into that Tobin Heath grin and she gratefully replied, "Hey, thanks. That's awfully nice of you."

As she walked past, her fingertips grazed Christen's back, gently dragging across the fabric of Christen's dress from one shoulder to the other. 

Christen really thought she might just melt into the ground.

FOR SOME REASON, IT SEEMED THAT ALMOST EVERYONE THOUGHT THAT TONIGHT WAS JUST A GOOD EXCUSE TO GET DRUNK.

All except Tobin and Christen.

(And the goalies. Naeher and Ad remained sober as ever. Neither of them ever really drank unless it was for celebratory purposes. Christen couldn't even recall a time she'd seen Ad drink, and Alyssa, only one time after winning the 2015 World Cup.)

Christen was still scarred by the hazy memories from last time she'd drank too much — the Tobin kiss, of course, not to mention the Tobin cuddling — and Tobin didn't drink much to begin with. The two of them had one glass each as a courtesy, but the entire table of nine finished three entire bottles that night.

Christen and Tobin both seemed to agree that watching their teammates get drunk was entertaining.

Allie had reverted to calling Tobin "Harry" nonstop; Sonnett and Lindsey were acting like toddlers; JJ was trying to call her husband to tell him she loved him because it simply could not wait; Kling was trying to find the right waiter so she could order everyone a dessert. The girls were a mess.

The four sober players did their best to get the others into cabs. Ad took a cab with the toddlers and Harry, and Alyssa took a cab with JJ and Kling.

"Which hotel are you at, Chris?" Tobin asked once they'd finally wrangled all the girls into cars.

"Um..." Christen could hardly remember. "The Hilton. It's on 9th Avenue, I think."

"Hey, that's real close to where I live! I live on 12th," Tobin said, her voice suddenly excited. Tobin briefly glanced at her phone and then back up at Christen. "Would you want to walk back to your hotel from here? It's only about 15-20 minutes, tops."

Realistically, there was no way she could decline. It was such a nice offer.

And she didn't want to say no.

So she said yes.

"Sure, that sounds great."

WHAT CHRISTEN DIDN'T KNOW WAS THAT TOBIN'S APARTMENT WAS REALLY IN THE OPPOSITE DIRECTION. Tobin was literally going out of her way to walk Christen back to her hotel. Sure, her legs were awfully tired and her back was beginning to bother her, but she couldn't miss out on Christen Press. The NWSL season was almost over, and it was much harder to find one-on-one time during camps.

Early autumn in Portland was always Tobin's favorite season. Back in New Jersey, autumn was always wet, muddy, and cold, and it always seemed to sneak up on you when you least expected it. And winters in New Jersey were even harsher.

Tobin couldn't fathom how Christen the California girl could handle Chicago winters. She was strong, that was for sure.

In Portland, though, the seasons blended together smoothly. For example, tonight wasn't too cold, but there were definitely leaves on the ground, and every so often, a breeze would sweep you up. It was really nice. And, perhaps—

Romantic, even.

Tobin had always wanted to go on a walk with Christen during a Portland autumn.

And she couldn't miss out on that chance. So what if her journey home would be ten minutes longer?

Tobin and Christen walked next to each other in silence for some time. Tobin did her best to match Christen's quick strides, but she was almost struggling to keep up. God, why did Press have to be such a fast walker — wasn't being a fast runner enough?

"So..." Tobin began when they reached a stoplight, because the silence was really starting to become unbearable. "How've you been lately?"

"Off my game," Christen replied flatly, kicking a pebble into the street before adding—

"You're in my head all the time, Heath, you know that?"

Adrenaline shot through Tobin's veins. Her head spun.

This couldn't be real.

Tobin thought she was the only one losing sleep over this.

Maybe not.

CHRISTEN'S FEET TRUDGED ALONG THE SIDEWALK AS SHE AND TOBIN NEARED THE HOTEL. She knew she would have to say goodbye, and then they'd have to wait until next camp to see each other. They weren't the type to keep in touch.

As they approached the entrance, Tobin awkwardly piped up and said, "Um, well, er... I'll walk you up to your room. Like last time."

Christen couldn't find a way to say no. 

In fact, she didn't want to.

Unfortunately, as eager as they both were to recreate their previous elevator journey, they weren't alone on the ride. Christen couldn't push the "close" button fast enough, and she and Tobin both noticed each other's audible sigh as another hotel guest walked in.

Tobin stopped short at the door to Christen's room as though it were some sort of forbidden threshold.

"This was really nice, Press—"

"Do you have somewhere to be tomorrow morning or something?" Christen blurted out rudely before she could stop herself to even think about her words. She could feel her insides craving that feeling again. She had to take her chance. It was now or never.

"Uh, I-I don't think so, no," Tobin replied through a stammer. "Why do you ask?"

"Come inside."

"What?"

Christen lunged forward and grabbed Tobin's wrist before repeating herself in a serious tone—

"Come inside. I... I don't even know what to say anymore, Tobin, but I need you so, _so_ bad."

IT WAS JUST LIKE HER DREAMS, THE SEXY ONES SHE'D BEEN HAVING ABOUT TOBIN LATELY. Hands, sweat, heat, bodies.

And Christen was really, truly enjoying herself.

It made her totally forget about her shortcomings at the game earlier.

(Well, almost.)

As soon as the door shut behind them, Christen and Tobin were caught in a storm of kissing and touching and... as cheesy as it was to admit it, passion. Undeniable, raw, primal passion.

Christen couldn't remember the last time she'd felt like she needed someone so bad.

She wanted Tobin's hands all over her, and Tobin appeared to want the same of Christen.

It was probably because Tobin was experienced with girls, but she seemed to know all the right places to hit, all the right buttons to push, which made Christen even more eager, who did her best to keep up with Tobin's speed and desires.

It was funny how on the field Christen was faster, but when they were alone together, Tobin was. She was really an expert. It was fascinating to Christen.

And just when Christen thought it couldn't get any better, Tobin broke away from her and murmured—

"God, you're so good at this. You're... you're being so _good_ , Christen."

That was enough to set Christen off.

Her hands traveled underneath Tobin's shirt, feeling her body. Tobin felt smaller than had Christen originally thought. Christen easily moved Tobin toward the direction of the bed, and Tobin didn't turn her down.

She didn't want to admit it, but being Big Spoon Press had its perks.

"Talk to me like that, Heath," Christen desperately spilled through a breath into Tobin's ear. She almost heard a laugh from Tobin. 

Tobin knew exactly what she was doing to Christen.

And it was nothing short of witchcraft in Christen's opinion.

"You like that, don't you?" Tobin's tone was rough and almost sinister.

"Yeah," Christen admitted through a pleasured sigh, but her voice was urgent, sounding close to a whine. "Yeah, I-I do."

"I should've known," Tobin said before continuing, "since you've always been such a good girl."

Christen couldn't fight back a moan.

She was embarrassed that Tobin had this control over her, and that it only took her two intense makeout sessions to figure it out. Tobin was clever. 

Christen felt a shudder run down her spine when Tobin slipped her fingers into Christen's panties.

"Can I touch you here, Christen? Will you let me?" Tobin's voice was syrupy and sexy and raspy and hot and it was almost too much for Christen. This absolutely couldn't be real. How could asking for consent be so hot? It was beyond her.

"Yes," Christen pleaded quickly and breathily, that insane, fluttery feeling deep within her reaching a peak. Without hesitation, she added for emphasis—

"Yes, _please_."

Christen didn't think it was an exaggeration to say that there was nothing in the world that felt better than Tobin's fingers penetrating her.

She'd never been touched like this so well before — she'd only done this twice, so she didn't have a lot of experience anyway — but Tobin was really, truly, properly good at it. She knew what she was doing, it was obvious. Her fingers were so in tune with Christen's wants and needs without Christen even having to express them aloud. Tobin just _knew_.

And it felt fantastic. Euphoric, even. She couldn't even think of words to describe how good Tobin was.

But now Christen knew that there was no way she'd ever be able to get enough of Tobin Heath.

She really did need Tobin now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well um this was my first WLW intimate scene so... tell me your thoughts, perhaps? I need to do a bit of work. Thanks for getting through it though.


	16. Goodbye Baby, You're No Good for Me (I Can't Take Much More of This)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title lyric of the chapter is from "Goodbye Baby" by The Walters. Damn, I wish they hadn't broken up, their music is sooo good.
> 
> I have to warn you that in this chapter, Christen and Tobin reach some conflict.  
> (I'm sorry. They will get though it, don't worry!!!)
> 
> As Shakespeare once said, "the course of true love never did run smooth."  
> Believe me, this will be fixed in no time. But for now, just stick with me here...
> 
> To help you with the pain, I've included a bit of Tobin's POV and quoted a chapter title from earlier on in the story.
> 
> Anyway, I've cautioned you all. Now then, my dear readers, let's continue...

IT WAS IRONIC HOW THE EXACT THING THAT CHRISTEN HAD FEARED WAS BECOMING HER TRUTH. As much as she didn't want to admit it, it was true.

She couldn't get enough of Tobin.

Christen was absolutely addicted. Or, at least, she'd convinced herself she was.

She was experiencing all the symptoms of addiction: putting herself in risky situations to get her fix, having awful withdrawal symptoms, and always feeling a very specific high whenever she was in contact with her drug.

(Which was Tobin, of course.)

In the ensuing months, Tobin and Christen had almost gotten caught mid-makeout by their teammates _twice_. They couldn't keep their hands off each other. They were jeopardizing the entire operation. Maybe a part of them _wanted_ to get caught.

And whenever Christen was alone for more than a few weeks' time, she would start having those dirty dreams about Tobin again. It was almost routine; her body had resorted to subconsciously simulating these situations so that Christen could get her Tobin high.

It was terribly embarrassing. She'd rather die than admit to it. 

For some reason, Christen had never craved a man like this. Tobin was the first person Christen was truly lovesick over, and Christen was certain that she was really going insane. How could Tobin have this much power over her?

Tobin proved to be a great distraction during practices. Sometimes, they'd be drilling or scrimmaging, and Christen would glance over at Tobin and hear Tobin's voice in her ears, her words of praise that made Christen melt. Things like, "You're doing so well, Press" or "Yeah, that's it... you're so good."

Things that weren't inherently sexual, but in Tobin's voice, they worked like magic and did things to Christen's body.

And then Christen would screw up. It baffled everyone, because these mistakes would just happen out of nowhere.

Christen was blindsided by Tobin.

She resolved to meditating twice as often as she did before; it didn't change anything. Tobin still nutmegged her way into Christen's thoughts. Christen wanted to confide in someone, but then again, she ran the risk of letting the whole team in on it, and then the jig would be up.

She felt stuck.

She'd never felt so out of control before. Letting her body take over was not a natural thing for Christen, yet it seemed that it was all she could do these days. She could barely recognize herself. She was becoming some sort of passion-fueled Tobin Heath addict.

And funnily enough, to alleviate this stuck-ness, she would turn to Tobin, whose calming voice and soothing words — combined with those devilish yet masterful hands, and that hot, equally skillful mouth — could always seem to lead Christen to clarity.

(And to orgasm. But that was an entirely different benefit of her relationship with Tobin.)

It was something of a vicious cycle. It was like some sort of deeply troubling merry-go-round she couldn't get off... because she didn't want to.

Christen was really becoming an addict.

And Tobin was eager to be her enabler.

CASUALLY HOOKING UP WITH CHRISTEN WASN'T A BAD THING BY ANY MEANS. Tobin was certainly enjoying herself, and it was clear to her that Christen was too.

At camps, they would hook up nearly every night. Running around with Christen in secret was pretty fun in itself.

But Tobin wondered if they'd ever be more than that. 

She didn't want to be greedy; she knew Christen probably wasn't comfortable with her identity like she was. Christen had just discovered this other side of her. Or, at least, had just tapped into it. She didn't want to pressure Christen into anything too soon.

Tobin also didn't know how Christen felt about her. They'd both kind of glossed over Tobin's confession several months earlier — it was almost a whole year ago, actually — and Tobin didn't want to bring up the fact that they hadn't discussed it since.

Regardless, she was still waiting for an answer. She deserved one.

But as Christen and Tobin kept hooking up more and more often, she began to feel more and more restless, and almost... used.

She didn't want to admit it, but it was justified: she and Christen really were just teammates-with-benefits, apparently.

It was ironic how Tobin took the lead in bed, but in terms of their relationship status, Christen was calling the shots.

At their next camp, she decided, she would have to address this, one way or another.

This couldn't continue without some sort of resolution.

Tobin needed closure more than anything.

IT WAS THE LAST NIGHT OF JANUARY CAMP. Every night this past week at 11pm sharp — hell, it was almost like a routine at this point — Tobin came to Christen's hotel room and they got right to business.

Christen looked at the clock on her phone in anticipation, awaiting Tobin's arrival. She was getting excited already.

And sure enough, she was on time, like always.

Christen quickly leapt from her bed as soon as she heard the first knock on the door. She pulled Tobin inside by the hand, hungry for her touch. 

"Hey," Tobin said after kissing Christen quickly as a greeting, being careful to shut the door behind them. "Do you, you know, you need help with packing, or—"

"Nope, I've already finished," chirped Christen through a broad smile. Christen liked packing, and she was a fast packer, too. And, of course, she had a guest coming. She wanted her schedule to be absolutely clear, no prior commitments that she needed to attend to.

This was her Tobin time.

And _nothing_ would interrupt Tobin time.

Tobin got to work on Christen's body; in no time, the two of them found themselves undressed. Christen was getting hot already. Tobin was just so good at it — her intentionality in combination with her steady rhythm was just too much to handle.

"You... you feel incredible, Chris. Keep being good for me," Tobin murmured between kisses in that naughty, breathy voice that gave Christen goosebumps.

It was almost too easy to set her off. It was kind of embarrassing how Tobin knew Christen's preferences down to a T.

And sometimes Christen would feel inferior when it was her turn to reciprocate. She wasn't experienced like Tobin was, but she was beginning to catch on to what Tobin liked. It was frustrating; Christen despised almost everything that didn't come naturally to her. She was a perfectionist.

But Tobin was beginning to teach her that perfection wasn't necessarily everything.

Tobin was changing her—

For the better.

AND THEN IT ALL CAME SHATTERING DOWN. Christen's stomach became knotted up when she heard Tobin say those dreaded words—

"Christen... we need to talk."

Christen nodded slowly, bracing for impact.

"What... what are we?" Tobin asked quietly, hesitation evident in her voice.

She didn't know how to answer, because honestly, she didn't know either. She couldn't quite put a label on their relationship.

"Um... well, I-I guess you could say we're, you know... friends... with benefits?" Christen offered unconfidently. Tobin let out a pained sigh.

Uh-oh. This wasn't good.

Christen could feel something coming from Tobin and she had an idea that she wasn't going to like it.

"Christen, can you just listen to me for a second, no interruptions?"

"Yeah, totally... of course. Go ahead."

Tobin took a deep breath before she continued: "Christen, what I said to you in the locker room that time last year... that hasn't gone away. I can't help the way I feel; I really think I'm in love with you. And I know this is a lot to hear, but I have to be honest with you: this situation isn't fair if you're not 100% in it."

"I _am_ ," Christen said, her voice becoming indignant. She began to work on defending herself. "Tobin, please believe—"

"No, you just— I'm really sorry to say this, Christen, but I think you just don't get it. I am committed to _you_. Entirely. And I don't know if you feel the same way, but, if you don't, then please... we have to stop this," Tobin continued, her voice becoming weaker as she went on—

"And I'm trying to respect you in all of this, but if I let someone as perfect as you break my heart... God, I couldn't even imagine what I'd do with myself. I don't see myself ever bouncing back from a hit like that. And I-I really, _really_ don't want this to stop, but... I think it's best if we did."

Christen choked on a breath.

They couldn't stop.

Immediately, Christen rushed to explain herself, to keep Tobin in the game. Her voice quivered as she spoke—

"Tobs, come on, please, I... this is really hard for me. I mean, I like you. I like you so, _so_ much. Sometimes I think it's making me go crazy, how much I like you. And believe me, we're entirely exclusive, I'm not going around with guys or anything like that, and—"

Tobin cut her off.

"I hate to have to put it like this, Christen, because I really like what we have going here, but... if you're not in it for a relationship, then I'm going to have to step away from all of this. I'm sorry. It's just... you're putting me through a lot here. Three years, I've loved you every single day. Bottom line... I don't think I can keep doing this if you can't guarantee you're in it like I am."

Christen practically scoffed at this.

What was this supposed to be, some sort of ultimatum?

She could hardly believe Tobin would pull something like this.

"Tobin, really, you're asking for a lot here. I mean, a few months ago, I didn't even know I wasn't 100% straight! Could you at least give me some time to think about all of this? You totally sprung this on me!" Christen's voice was rising and she was becoming more irritated.

She didn't get it.

Why did they have to stop? Was she not good enough?

"Sure, yes, I'll give you time. But we're not doing any more of this stuff before you make a decision. Understood?"

Christen wasn't sure how she was going to live with herself without Tobin.

But this was her last chance, and she reluctantly agreed.

She couldn't lose Tobin.

At least, not like this.


	17. I Think I Know Where You Belong, I Think I Know It's With Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title lyric of the chapter is classic Taylor Swift, "You Belong With Me," which is one of my favorite songs of all time.  
> Never thought that the first artist I'd be repeating lyrics for in my chapter titles would be Taylor Swift.
> 
> But here I am, unashamed. 
> 
> This chapter is another all-Tobin POV because, um, hello, it's chapter 17!!!
> 
> Hate to break it to you, but it's a little bit sappier and close to cheesy, so bear with me. I really think this chapter embodies the phrase, "short and sweet." Or, at least, that's what I'm trying to get at.
> 
> But a bombshell is dropped at the end.  
> So stay tuned.
> 
> (Oh, and by the way, let's get a little timeline update here: we're in late March 2018, which puts us at more than a year since Tobin's confession, yet less than a year since their first kiss.)
> 
> Let's get going then, I won't keep you any longer...

A LITTLE OVER A MONTH PASSED BY AND TOBIN'S ULTIMATUM STILL STOOD WITH NO RESOLUTION. Tobin found herself missing Christen like crazy, which wasn't a huge surprise.

Tobin missed the obvious things, of course: her breathtaking green eyes, her imperfect yet nonetheless gorgeous smile—

And God forbid she forget her body.

But she also missed the little things. The things that used to pass her by when they were still… together? Or rather, hooking up. Things like how softly Christen’s fingertips used to graze over her skin. There was something so damn flattering about the caution she’d exhibited then.

Her captivation with Tobin’s body made Tobin feel… sexy. 

There were more little things than big things. Tobin missed how Christen was always so eager to please her — Tobin was sure this stemmed from the praise kink Christen was seemingly unaware she had — and how Christen was so desperate to give Tobin a good time.

Tobin realized Christen was the same on the pitch and in bed: she was always determined, always giving 100%, effort-wise. It was among the many admirable aspects of Christen Press.

Not to mention, the praise kink itself.

Now _that_ was a whole different story.

Tobin hadn’t had a partner who’d had a praise kink since college, when she used to hook up with older girls with more experience. She remembered the first (and only, before Christen) time she’d been with a girl who’d had a praise kink: it was almost overwhelming, the response she got, but Tobin knew she liked playing her part in her partner's satisfaction.

But Christen was better; her naïveté made her even hotter.

Tobin had hooked up with Christen enough times by now to know that Christen was super vanilla, super innocent. She’d probably never even heard of such a thing in her life. Knowing what Christen liked without Christen knowing herself made Tobin feel good for some reason.

Something that made Christen even better was that she wasn't 100% perfect—

She had some flaws that somehow made her seem even prettier to Tobin.

For example, her teeth weren't all perfectly straight, and on her knees and shins she had some scars and other little discolorations from turf burn and bruises that hadn't healed quite right. Christen's arms were lankier than she would've liked — Tobin knew this as she overheard Christen complain about them a few years back — and she had a little constellation-like cluster of faint, splotchy-shaped birthmarks at the back of her neck.

But those little things were what made Christen all the more attractive to Tobin.

Christen was _real_ , she was authentic.

And she was beautiful.

ALL OF A SUDDEN, THE LADIES WERE BACK AT CAMP, AND TOBIN MADE A POINT TO AVOID CHRISTEN. She wanted to make Christen jealous. Every chance she got, she'd steal Kelley or Mal away from her for a partner drill or a warm-up back-and-forth passing game.

She was back to doing the same old shit, the shit that she used to do to try to get Christen's attention.

It was easy to fall back into the habit she'd kept up for so long.

And to her delight, it was working.

It was petty, for sure, but Tobin needed to make it concrete: as much as she missed Christen, she was still committed to her demand. She had to respect herself first before anyone else, and Christen had to respect that. So there was some rational reasoning behind her behavior. 

But did Tobin experience some kind of rush when she saw Christen visibly irritated at a skillful Tobin Heath nutmeg?

Absolutely.

After Jill wrapped up practice, the team made their way to the locker room, and Tobin was stopped by a tug at the hem of her jersey.

It was Christen.

"Hey," she said, the word coming out of her mouth abruptly and firmly. "We need to talk. We can't ignore each other forever."

Quickly, Tobin tried to come up with something witty to say back, despite not being a witty person. Unsurprisingly, her words failed her, and she simply replied with: "Yeah, okay, sure. It's for the best."

"Great. I'll see you tonight. Your room, 11 o'clock."

"Don't be late," Tobin warned for no apparent reason. Christen rolled her eyes (which Tobin thought was crazy hot), patted Tobin on the back twice, and jogged toward Becky. 

Tobin hoped it'd be good news.

AS SHE AWAITED CHRISTEN'S ARRIVAL, TOBIN'S NERVES BEGAN TO EAT AT HER. Christen was a complete wild card at this point; there was no knowing what she wanted or what was going on in that pretty head of hers. 

Their fate was in Christen's hands.

Tobin was startled as she heard a knock on the door, and sure enough, as expected, at 11 o'clock sharp, it was Christen.

Tobin waited a few seconds to answer it. She didn't want Christen to think she was just sitting around waiting for her — which was, in fact, exactly what she'd been doing for about a half hour or so — so she counted to ten before opening the door.

"Hi," she said as she met eyes with Christen. Christen said nothing back, only raised her eyebrows and pursed her lips. Tobin continued with a timid offer: "Uh, y-you can come inside."

"So, what's up?" Christen had yet to say a word. Tobin sat down on the bed and Christen stood in front of her. "I take it you've got something to say?"

Christen nodded, and finally spoke. Her voice was shaky: "I've got something to tell you, Tobin."

"Okay," Tobin said in her calmest, most soothing voice. "Go for it. I'm all ears."

Christen smiled weakly and took a deep breath before she spoke.

"Tobin, I don't know what it is about you. But since the first time we played against each other — I mean, like, ten years ago, back in college — you've been... intimidating. Like, crazy intimidating. You're good, _so_ good, and when I first got called up to the senior team, my first thought was, 'wow, I'm gonna be on the same team as Tobin Heath.' I didn't think that immediately about Carli or Alex. It was only you."

"I was so nervous my first day. I didn't want to screw up in front of Jill or Pia, obviously, but most importantly, I didn't want to mess up in front of you. I was scared. For a long time. You never once took it easy on me, and I have to say, back then, I was so pissed at you for it, but I thank you now, because you've made me so much better. I see it now, what it was all for."

"But years passed, and I figured we'd just never get along. You were just so damn good, and I was hanging on by a thread. I became obsessed with gaining your approval, making you like me. I just wanted you to notice me, just once. I wanted to play like you. It doesn't matter if I went to Stanford; you're still smarter than me. By a lot. And I just wanted to get inside your head, think like you, be... you."

"And then you told me you loved me. God, I can't forget it to this day. It was a year ago now, but it still feels like yesterday, it's still so... fresh. It was so unexpected, but at the same time, it was typical Tobin, since you always manage to surprise everyone. I'd never felt so flattered in my life. I'd never felt so... so good about myself before. Hearing it from you, it was just different."

"I kind of had a sense I was using you. Toward the end, at least. It's just — God, I don't know — I really just... _needed_... you. I don't know what it was. But I've been missing you like crazy, and every time we went more than, like, two weeks with seeing each other, I was so close to just going insane. That's how bad I need you. Sometimes I feel like I can't breathe without you. It's... it's crazy, I know, but it's just how it is, for some reason. You're... unreal. There's just something about you."

"Here's the bottom line, Tobin: I don't know if I love you. I might. I don't know a lot of things. But I want to hold your hand. I want to wake up next to you in the morning; I don't want to have to keep sneaking around. I don't want you to have to leave in the middle of the night to avoid suspicion. Because, you know... _fuck_ what other people think. I want you so bad, I don't even care anymore. And I've _always_ cared about what other people think."

"So, Tobin, if you'd have me... I think I'm ready to be your girlfriend."

_This can't be real. Christen wants... me?_

Tobin had no words. Tears spilled out of the corners of Christen's eyes, but she promised herself she wouldn't touch Christen until they'd come to some sort of agreement on Tobin's ultimatum, so she had to resist wiping them away.

Christen cried quietly into her hands — Tobin was sure it was because Christen probably thought she had an ugly crying face — as Tobin's mind struggled to wrap around this huge revelation from Christen.

So Tobin said the only word that came to mind—

"Yes."

Christen looked up. "Yes... you'll, you'll be—"

Tobin broke out into a grin and jumped up from her seat. She took Christen's face in her hands and repeated herself more confidently now, more confident than she'd ever felt before—

"Yes. Yes, I'll be your girlfriend. I want to go out with you. Let's date."

Christen threw her arms around Tobin, and for the first time in weeks, Tobin finally felt Christen's skin on hers. She didn't know how she went so long without it.

But she knew she would never be able to let her go now.

This was years in the making, but all her wishes finally came true.

Finally, she was Christen's, and Christen was hers.

Tobin didn't think there'd be a happier moment in the rest of her life.


	18. Let's Stop Running From Love (Don't Make Me Wait Another Day)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title lyric of the chapter is two separate excerpts from "My My My!" by Troye Sivan. What a freaking bop!!! Can't wait for his new music, hope it comes soon.
> 
> This is a short yet ~chaotic~ chapter (you know what that means... Christen is anxious AF, lol) so just take deep breaths as you read. Things work themselves out. Don't fret, reader.
> 
> Let's get down to it...

THE DAYS THAT ENSUED WERE FILLED WITH EXCITEMENT. It had been so long — _way_ too long, she'd just realized — since Christen had been in a relationship, and she'd missed that stage where everything was exciting and new and you couldn't keep your hands off each other.

And with Tobin, it was even better than all her past relationships combined.

 _Max who?_ Christen thought smugly as she noticed herself unable keep in a smile when she exchanged looks with Tobin across the locker room.

There was a lot of stealing of glances and sitting next to each other each chance they got. They had yet to announce their relationship to the team; Tobin knew that being in a same-sex relationship was an entirely new experience for Christen, so she didn't want to pressure her into it.

Christen hadn't even come out to the team as bisexual yet, and neither of them had discussed whether or not she would even go that far as to do that. Hell, Christen didn't even know how to label her sexuality.

She was still very confused about everything.

So for now, they were still sneaking around... minus the guilt.

Tobin seemed content with it, as far as Christen could tell. Both of them were at the top of their game; suddenly, like magic, their passes to each other started connecting.

They were finally on the same page.

As practice wrapped up, Christen felt a hand at the top of her back slowly venturing down her jersey to her ass.

Christen almost jumped out of her skin.

"Great practice today," Tobin whispered into her ear, before teasing her—

"You're doing _so_ well, Christen."

Christen bit down on her lip to will away the fluttering of her insides. Tobin couldn't be doing this here, not now. She felt embarrassed; how could Tobin saying these kinds of things — these absolutely normal phrases — be so hot?

Their shoulders brushed as Tobin sped up to walk with Allie. 

"Ooh, I think someone likes you!" Kelley called in a sing-song voice behind Christen, who stopped dead in her tracks.

"What? Oh, that? Haha, no, that was just, pshh, that's—" Christen stumbled through a response, her face heating up. 

"See, I told you, Worms, they're dating," Alex insisted to Kelley. "Look at them. It was only a matter of time."

Christen was quick to defend herself: "Me? And-and Tobin? What? That's, I mean... that's crazy! Absolutely not, no way." Christen smiled at them weakly.

Kelley and Alex looked at each other and raised their eyebrows. Christen was an awful liar. They walked away with nothing else to say, at least to Christen's face; Christen noticed Kelley and Alex whispering to each other and giggling.

This was already getting complicated and they were just a few days in.

CHRISTEN FELT ANXIOUS AS TOBIN SAT DOWN NEXT TO HER ON THE BUS. Now she knew what others were saying about her and Tobin, or at least what they all thought about them, and it was nerve-wracking. Christen much preferred being the low-maintenance, low-drama player she always had been.

Now her and Tobin's relationship seemed to be of interest for the whole team, and she couldn't fly under the radar so easily.

"What's with the face? What's up?" Tobin asked in a hushed tone, concern evident in her voice as she pushed her soccer bag beneath the chair in front of her.

"Okay, we... we need to talk about what happened, you know, back there." Christen's voice was quiet yet firm.

"Jeez, Chris, I-I'm sorry," Tobin said, blushing, "It was just a little joke!"

"Yeah, okay, I got that, but now Kelley and Alex think we're dating."

"Aren't we?" Tobin challenged.

Christen bit her lip. Tobin was right.

"You... you know what I mean," Christen spluttered, frustration rising in her chest.

"No, I don't. _You_ said you want to date, and I, of course, said yes. Are you taking it back now?"

"No, no way, Tobin, of course not," Christen rushed to explain. "It's just... I'm sorry, but I've never really been one for PDA stuff, okay? So if you could, just... cool it, okay?"

Tobin looked disappointed but took Christen's suggestion surprisingly well. "Okay. Noted. But once we're, you know, out... to the team—"

Tobin's voice dropped off as she noticed the bus was silent around them with everyone practically holding their breath, waiting for them to continue, listening so intently. 

This was really becoming something out of a nightmare for Christen. 

_God, make it stop, make it stop,_ she pleaded to herself as she felt the rest of the team's eyes on her and Tobin. _Please, let this be a bad dream..._

But it wasn't.

It was real.

A mere three days into their relationship, Tobin and Christen had outed their relationship to the entire team.

THANKFULLY, JILL HADN'T YET GOTTEN ON THE BUS. Christen rose from her seat and said in her most threatening voice (which wasn't all that threatening, being Christen Press): "Not a word to Jill, or Dawn, or _anyone._ Understood?"

Everyone nodded their heads, but they were all grinning. Christen knew well this was an empty promise: with Kelley and Sonnett both present, nothing could be contained for long. Christen sat back down, slightly lightheaded from the shock of it all, but Tobin put a reassuring hand on her thigh. Christen didn't move away; there was no point in it, now that everyone knew, and she didn't want to.

"This is going to be fun, isn't it, Press?" Tobin murmured in Christen's ear using that raspy voice that always made Christen sweat a little.

Christen swallowed hard before replying—

"Yeah, I... I think it just might be."

Christen and Tobin couldn't contain their smiles for the rest of the bus ride. This was what they'd wanted anyway, it just happened sooner than expected.

But that was okay.

Christen was learning from Tobin that there was a beauty to the unexpected, the imperfect.

 _Yes,_ Christen said to herself, her face beginning to cool off, _this is how it's meant to be._

Nonetheless, she still had to finish her conversation with Tobin.

Some things were still left unsaid, and she had to make herself clear.

Before they could do anything else, Christen decided, they had to work this out.

"HEY, BEAUTIFUL," Tobin breathed as Christen greeted her. Christen couldn't help but grin — Tobin had fallen into a habit of calling Christen "beautiful" instead of her name, and Christen didn't object to it whatsoever — and she shut the door to her room behind them.

Tobin lunged forward to kiss Christen, her hands already holding Christen's jaw with her fingers at the back of her neck, and slowly walked Christen back toward the bed. This was how it always was. But Christen pulled away abruptly and said in a serious tone—

"We're not done talking."

"What do you mean?"

"Since earlier. On the bus."

"Everyone knows now," Tobin pointed out, "What's the point of hiding anything anymore?"

All of a sudden, before she could even think about the words coming out of her mouth, Christen announced—

"I think we're moving too fast!"

Christen hid her face in her hands.

She couldn't take it back now.

Tobin looked hurt and shocked.

"What?"

Christen tripped over her words as she explained herself hurriedly: "It's just that... I don't know, I mean, I'm... I-I've never been with a woman before, and I just don't know if we're like rushing into things. I like you a lot, Tobin, believe me. It's just... I wasn't ready to go public so soon, and then it happened, and now I'm all—"

Tobin threw her arms around Christen without a word. Christen felt her body shaking as Tobin held her. Immediately, she noticed her anxiety beginning to wash away, but she still felt overwhelmed. To her utter frustration, tears began to run down her cheeks into Tobin's shoulder.

"I-I'm sorry," Christen choked through a sob. "I should've known I'd let you down like this."

"Let _me_ down? Press, this is my fault. I should've been more sensitive. I'm sorry. I'm dumb."

"You're not dumb," Christen assured Tobin. " _I'm_ the one who's dumb. God, why am I like this?"

"No, no. You have every right to be upset with me. I'm sorry. I know this is all new to you, and I was ignoring your feelings."

"It's okay," Christen finally said, her voice a quiet sigh. "I'm... I'm okay."

Tobin broke away from Christen and wiped the remaining tears on her face before adding—

"You're very pretty when you cry, you know that?"

Christen could feel herself blushing again.

And before she knew it, like magic, they'd started kissing again, taking to a slow but intentional rhythm. Every time with Tobin felt like the first; each time she felt the same rush of adrenaline and excitement coursing through her veins, the same tingling feeling of pinpricks on every square inch of her skin, all of it.

Christen knew there was something special about Tobin that set her apart from the rest.

Christen knew deep inside herself that this was right.

"Just trust me, Press," Tobin murmured between kisses and repeated herself—

"Just trust me."


	19. I'm Gonna Feel Every Feelin' in the Book Tonight (Fuck the Panic, Hurt, Sadness, Shame)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title lyric of the chapter is some hard-hitting stuff from Ezra Furman from his song "Every Feeling." God, this song hits so different. It is on my crying playlist, I won't lie to you.
> 
> This is a long, sad chapter which takes place around early September 2018, which means that Christen and Tobin have been going strong for five months!!!
> 
> The first section is a block quote to indicate that it's a voicemail — a very sad voicemail from Christen's father, Cody. 
> 
> (Also, if y'all are unfamiliar with the rest of the Press family: Christen's father is Cody, her mother is Stacy, her older sister is Tyler, and her younger sister is Channing. And as far as I'm concerned, Christen Press is the only valid middle child to ever exist. Period.)
> 
> I've never really written sad stuff before, but anyway *deep breath* here it is...

> _Hey, Chris... it's Dad. I... I don't even know how to say this to you, but... Mom had a seizure today. Just a couple of hours ago. We got her to the hospital, and she's stable and all_ _— I mean, she, um, she hasn't woken up yet, but, you know, she's breathing on her own, stuff like that — but I-I just wanted to let you know._ _I haven't been able to get ahold of any doctors who have been able to tell me anything substantial, but... I'll keep you posted. Just wanted to tell you._ _But I want you keep your head up, Chrissy, okay? We're gonna get through this; you know your mother, she won't let this stop her. All right._ _Dad loves you, and, of course, Mom too._ _I'll talk to you soon... bye._

CHRISTEN WAS SO OVERWHELMED WITH EMOTIONS SHE COULDN'T BREATHE. Shock. Grief. Worry.

Everything hit her at once.

She hadn't panicked like this since the Olympics of 2016: her missed PK that kept the USWNT players from the gold medals they'd deserved.

Just like then, she felt like she was drowning.

She was short of breath; her hands shook so much she dropped her phone. Her body went cold in an instant, and she was suddenly overcome with nausea.

It was almost as though the walls were closing in on her. Her pulse was going a mile a minute, and not in the good way — her pulse wasn't racing in the way she liked, like after scoring a goal, or the feeling of Tobin's hands on her — and her vision became blurred with tears.

Her mother wasn't even 60 yet. How could she be fading so fast? So many unanswerable questions swirled through Christen's head. 

It had been just two days since Christen's 100th cap. Her mom had _been_ there, live and in the flesh. She was perfectly healthy and completely normal; there was nothing that would've clued Christen into her poor health. Nothing. 

And talk about poor timing—

Christen was on her first visit to Portland.

She'd just stayed the night at Tobin's apartment for the first time.

Things had been going so, _so_ well for her for the first time in so long. She hadn't felt this good in a while.

But life always had a terrible way of bringing her back down to reality.

"I'VE GOT A CHAI LATTE, JUST FOR YOU," said Tobin as she breezed through the bedroom door. Tobin had woken up early to get coffee — or, in Christen's case, tea — from one of the best coffee shops in town. And Portland had many.

Christen met eyes with Tobin who put down the cups immediately and rushed over to her. "Oh, my God, Christen, what happened? Are you okay? Is something wrong?"

Somehow, Tobin's questions, although backed by good intentions, made Christen cry even more. They were the same questions her mom would ask her if something happened.

Christen wiped her eyes roughly with the sides of her fingers as she struggled to tell Tobin: "It's... it's my mom. She had a-a seizure, earlier today." The words tumbled out of her mouth messily, and she fell into another bout of sobs. 

"Holy... I-I don't even know what to say, Chris. I'm so, so sorry."

"It's.. it's okay," Christen sighed through a weak smile. This was so Christen; she always tried to be strong even in the face of devastation. That was Christen Press. "You know, it'll be okay. It will. I should really stop crying, yeah? Gosh, I'm such a mess. It's not even nine in the morning yet, and here I am."

"It doesn't have to be okay," Tobin replied matter-of-factly. "You can cry if you need to."

Christen looked up, her bottom lip trembling. In that moment, Tobin's heart broke; Christen's pale green doe eyes filled with tears, that beautiful face of her's resembling a distant childlike innocence, a certain vulnerability that Tobin couldn't quite put her finger on.

But as hard as Christen tried to convince Tobin otherwise, everything about Christen's face screamed "hurt." 

Tobin vowed that she would never see Christen make that face again.

As long as she was with Christen, she would make sure that Christen would never know pain like this again.

THAT NIGHT, CHRISTEN BOOKED PLANE TICKETS FOR THE TWO OF THEM TO GO BACK TO L.A., WHERE THEY HAD JUST BEEN FOR CHRISTEN'S 100th CAP. Christen supposed it was a good a time as any for Tobin to meet her parents, as rushed as it may have been; it seemed Christen's mother was beginning to run out of time, and Christen didn't want to keep Tobin a secret from them any longer.

Up to that point, Christen's family had been under the impression that Tobin was just a "good friend" of Christen's and nothing more. But Christen had to tell them the truth; it wasn't fair to them or Tobin to keep up this lie.

"I feel like it's super weird that you're going to be meeting my family five months in," Christen confessed as she re-packed her bags. Their plane left early the next morning. "I don't know, I just feel like that's kind of soon."

"I've already met them, so it's not _that_ weird. We're just going to, you know, have a different title. No big deal." Tobin's voice was as calm as ever.

But it was totally a big deal for Christen.

Her parents had only met one partner of Christen's in the past — Max Nagard — who was, of course, a man. She had no idea how her parents would react to the idea of Christen having a girlfriend.

"Aren't you a little excited?" Tobin asked as they got comfortable in Tobin's bed. "I mean, look at us, doing girlfriend shit together. We don't get to do any public stuff. This is really our first time confirming our relationship to the world."

Tobin had a point. The USWNT was its own little bubble, and nothing escaped its walls if it couldn't be helped. Tobin and Christen had even managed to keep their relationship from Jill thus far. But to be bringing it to Christen's parents was taking a whole new step. 

Christen had to admit, it was a little exciting.

"So when am I gonna meet your parents, Heath?"

Tobin rolled over to look at the ceiling. "I-I don't know. We're, you know, really religious and all, so it might be a little more complicated. You know, I came out to my parents before I left for college... but we haven't mentioned it since. I think they were kind of hoping it was some sort of phase I was going through."

"But it wasn't," Christen said.

"Indeed, it was not," Tobin confirmed through a little laugh that made it obvious she was keen on changing the subject. "So how do you think you're going to come out to your parents?"

Shit.

This would be tough.

Christen had just been going about this relationship without thinking about how she would convey it to her family or the outside world because she thought she'd have more time to think about it. She thought she had at least until the holiday season came around.

"I..." Christen sighed. "I haven't thought that one through yet."

"The queen of overthinking hasn't thought this one through? Really?" Tobin joked.

"Yeah, I guess it just... I don't know, it kind of slipped my mind. I was too wrapped up in us. But hey, it's 2018. Do we really need labels?"

"Well, you're my girlfriend and I'm your girlfriend, that's for sure," Tobin said defensively.

"No, of course, but I mean, like, labels on... on, you know—"

"On sexuality," Tobin finished for her.

Christen bit her lip before responding in a small voice, "Yeah."

"Hey, it's okay," Tobin soothed. "I didn't really know how to tell my family when I finally came around to it. So I just told them, straight-up, the night before I left for UNC. I said, 'Hey, I think it's time I tell you all... I like girls.' And that was it. No questions asked. They didn't say anything to me for the rest of the night."

Seeing Tobin reminisce about her coming out to her family was somewhat endearing to Christen, but she could also see the amount of pain it caused. For Tobin to know that her family probably didn't accept her sexuality was something she struggled with every day, whether anyone else knew it or not.

"But I'm sure your parents won't have the same reaction. They seem like very open-minded people. To me, at least," Tobin added.

Christen shrugged. "I guess you could say that."

As she tried to fall asleep, she only could hope their reaction would be positive.

CHRISTEN MULLED OVER WHAT TO SAY THE ENTIRE PLANE RIDE. Two and a half hours and she couldn't think of the right words. Thankfully, Tyler offered to drive the two of them to the hospital, which bought Christen another half hour or so to think through it.

For now, Christen and Tobin decided, Tyler would remain under the impression that Tobin was just a friend of Christen's. Christen would announce their relationship to her entire family when they were all together.

Christen had told Tyler she'd brought a friend with her, but it was fun to see the surprise on her face when she found out that friend was Tobin.

"Whoa, Chrissy, you brought Tobin Heath? _The_ Tobin Heath? My mind is, just, I mean, absolutely blown," Tyler gushed as Christen and Tobin approached her at the baggage claim. "Hi, I'm Tyler Press. Christen's big sister. I don't think we've met before."

"We haven't," agreed Tobin as they shook hands. "But, well, it seems like you know who I am."

Christen was only slightly bothered by Tyler's infatuation with Tobin's work. Tyler chatted non-stop with Tobin on the drive down to the hospital, asking her about what seemed like every aspect of Tobin's life. Luckily, Tobin was able to keep her and Christen's relationship a secret, no matter how much Tyler pried.

"I'll park the car," Tobin offered as Tyler pulled around to the entrance. "I'll let you guys go meet up with your mom."

Christen mouthed a "thank you" as Tobin got in the driver's seat, and all of a sudden, it hit her—

She would be seeing her mom in the hospital. As a patient.

Christen hadn't seen her mother in a hospital bed since Channing was born, and she could barely remember that. Quickly, she steeled herself for the meet-up, the confession, the image of her mother in that bed. 

But it wasn't enough; as soon as Christen caught sight of her mother looking so small and so frail in that hospital bed, tears sprung from the corners of her eyes. This couldn't be Stacy Press. Her mother was strong, athletic, vibrant, healthy. She wasn't a seizure victim.

Her father filled her in on the crushing details: her mother had just woken up a few hours earlier, yet her brain scans were not a pretty sight; it turned out that Stacy was sick. Very sick. With brain cancer. In the late stages. 

The likelihood of her recovering was slim to none.

The rest of her life could be one or two years, if not just months. 

She would be getting an operation next month.

Christen realized that time really was of the essence in her mother's case: it was seemingly now or never.

With her whole family in the room, Christen decided that it was time. No amount of rehearsing could have prepared Christen for this moment. But this wasn't a performance; there was no need for a rehearsal. 

Christen was simply telling her family the truth.

"All right, you guys. Jeez... okay. Mom, you can hear me, right?"

Stacy nodded.

"I've got something really important to tell you all. I don't know what better time there is than now, so... I'm just going to say it. I brought a friend with me down to L.A. — Tyler already met her — and I just, I have to say it... she's not _just_ my friend. We... we're actually... dating. She is my... girlfriend."

The room fell silent with the exception of the whirring of the medical machines that surrounded the room and the steady beeping of the heart monitor.

They were all quiet for some time, before Stacy said—

"I knew it."

Christen was astonished. "What?!"

"I knew it," her mother said through a grin, her voice fragile but her words confident. "Ever since that... what was her name again, Jenni? Jenni something? You know, from when you played in Sweden." She smugly panned to her husband. "I told you, Cody, I was right!"

So far, no one in the room seemed upset. Christen exhaled, not realizing she'd been holding her breath.

"Come here, Christen. Give Mom a hug, please."

When Christen leaned over the hospital bed to embrace her mother, Stacy whispered in her ear—

"Christen... I'm so, so proud of you. You're my brave little warrior, aren't you?"

Finally, relief washed over her.

"I love you, Mom."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, okay.
> 
> I've never written a coming out scene before, or have had to come out myself (I myself am a *mostly* straight girl), so I can't say I've written from a personal experience, but I really hope I wrote it well enough.
> 
> If you're one of my queer readers and you think I haven't done this experience justice with my words, please let me know, I am always willing to grow and learn for my next fic (if there is one, even) or any other stories I may write in the future. 
> 
> Until next time. 
> 
> Xoxo <3


	20. Only Worth Living If Somebody Is Loving You... Baby, Now You Do

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title lyric is from "Video Games" which is a classic Lana Del Rey song we should ALL be familiar with. Her music is that of CULTURE!!! If anyone was curious, I'm a huge BTD stan haha.
> 
> This is a pretty cute (and short, sorry) chapter in my humble opinion, so I hope you all enjoy.
> 
> The POV is kind of mixed between Tobin and Christen. I hope it's not confusing. I don't know, my writing was kind of weird in this one... I think the whole coronavirus quarantine thing is messing with my brain.
> 
> I also don't know if you noticed this, but I've finally decided that this fic will be 23 chapters (of course, paying homage to Christen's number). I have another fic concept in mind but I will start it after A) this one is finished, and B) I've taken a break. This is kind of exhausting, but I still love it! Kudos to anyone who also writes!
> 
> Anyway, here we go...

THE DRIVE BACK WAS SOBERING. Christen — with the aid of Tobin and the GPS — was able to find her way to the Press family home despite being a navigation klutz. The roads of San Pedro and Palos Verdes were so soothingly familiar. Christen remembered learning to drive and the satisfaction of finally getting her license the summer before she went off to college.

She hadn't been home in a while, but luckily, and unsurprisingly, everything was the same. She unlocked the front door and it even smelled the same.

Christen was home.

Finally.

And of course, Tobin begged to see Christen's childhood room right off the bat.

"Jeez, I don't think I've ever seen a room that's more 'you,' Christen," Tobin remarked as Christen let her inside. Christen's room was exactly how she'd left it before college: clean and spare with just a few decorations and houseplants. 

"I know, right?" Christen replied, the satisfaction and excitement evident in her tone.

The walls were stark white and fading sunlight filtered in through a perfectly clean window. Her bed was small — not a twin, but probably just a full — and her pinstripe sheets had a mature vibe to them, but in between the two pillows sat a well-loved stuffed dog. Christen rushed past Tobin to put the dog on top of a bookshelf.

Tobin stifled a laugh.

Christen was too cute.

On the walls hung a single Stanford pennant over her bed, and over her desk, one of those inspirational quote posters Tobin could've sworn she'd seen before in a Target. There were tiny potted plants scattered about the room in various places — a succulent here, a cactus there — and Tobin counted one, two, _three_ incense holders.

Yeah, this was Christen's room for sure.

"Where's all your soccer stuff?" Tobin wondered aloud.

Christen smiled and without a word, opened her closet.

It was almost organized like some sort of shrine. Her trophies stood right next to each other surrounding her Golden Boot from the Swedish League and her Hermann Trophy from college. It was a sight to behold. She'd draped ribbons and medals over her trophies, and most had several.

"Holy—"

"These aren't all from soccer," Christen said quickly and modestly. "A few of them were for track."

"Shit," Tobin finished. "I don't even know if I have that many."

"Well, yeah, I mean, you don't have a Hermann," Christen teased.

Tobin elbowed her. Kelley had been the recipient of the Hermann Trophy their senior year of college, and Tobin simply couldn't live it down.

"Let me show you something," Christen said as she took hold of Tobin's wrist.

She led Tobin to the desk. "Look underneath."

Tobin leaned over to take a better look at what Christen was pointing at. On the wall beneath the desk were countless dark scuff marks and some scattered dents and cracks. Tobin was surprised; she'd expected the walls to be perfect, spick and span. 

"When I was in high school I used to have a ball in between my feet when I did my schoolwork. And whenever I got frustrated, I started taking shots — hard shots, strikes even — at the wall." It was funny how Christen could laugh about it now when her parents used to yell at her for it all the time.

"I... I've been on anxiety medication since I was 12," she admitted through a breath. "And, I mean, you've probably noticed by now, but I'm what they call a 'neurotic perfectionist.'"

Tobin was stunned. How had Christen not told her this before?

Christen continued: "It's just... I knew I needed to tell you, but I didn't know how, and then all of a sudden I thought, 'well, shoot, if she's going to be meeting my parents, might as well tell her that I'm borderline mentally unwell, too,' so—"

"Christen, you're not 'mentally unwell.' Anxiety is really common," Tobin reasoned.

"Yeah, I know, but it used to be really bad. Tobin, I swear to you, in high school, I was crazy. And I mean _crazy_. Every day for five years, I'd take 100 shots with each foot, and it had to be 100; sometimes it'd be past midnight and I'd be outside taking shots. I would cry after games when I didn't score, and I wouldn't eat dinner. I was insane. Trust me, you think it's bad now, but like, 10 years ago, I would just—"

Tobin put two fingers to Christen's neck and felt her pulse racing. "Christen, breathe," Tobin commanded.

Christen obeyed.

 _You're not in high school anymore. You're nearly 30 years old,_ she chided. _You can't keep freaking out like this over the little stuff._

"Are you afraid of me now? Knowing that I'm like this?" Christen asked in a quiet voice as she tried to calm down.

"How could I be afraid of you?" Tobin said as she tucked a stray ringlet of hair behind Christen's ear. She squeezed Christen's shoulder. "I'm just glad you told me."

Christen had never felt more relieved in her life. To know that she hadn't driven Tobin away with her insanity was comforting, to say the least.

She gave Tobin a rueful smile as they sat down next to each other on Christen's bed. It squeaked beneath their combined weight.

"I've never slept in this bed with anybody," Christen observed aloud, her words coming out more suggestive than she had intended. 

"Well, I'm a lot of firsts for you, this won't be the only one," Tobin pointed out.

"Very true."

They lay down next to each other, barely fitting on the mattress. One of each of their arms spilled off the side of the bed. It wasn't quite big enough for two, but they would make it work. Christen turned on her side to look at Tobin's chiseled side profile. "So, you got any deep dark secrets I should know about?"

Christen watched Tobin intently as she chewed the inside of her cheek. Tobin could be so cute sometimes without knowing it. And all of a sudden, she confessed—

"You're the first person I've ever fallen in love with."

Christen felt her cheeks heating up. "Bullshit," she mumbled. "Uh, hello, Shirley Cruz? Come on, I'm not a complete idiot."

Tobin sat up. "You knew about Shirley?"

"We all did. Tobin, if Kelley knows, everyone knows." Tobin laid back down, mulling over this news.

"Okay, fine. But I wasn't... I wasn't in _love_ with her. It wasn't like how it is with you, Christen. I don't think I've ever been this happy in my life."

Christen almost scoffed at how corny Tobin sounded, but she knew Tobin was being genuine, so she managed to keep it to herself. Just the thought of someone thinking about her like this seemed ridiculous. Christen hadn't believed in soulmates before.

Soulmates.

All this wax-poetic nonsense was reminding Christen of Max, and how he'd proposed to her on the beach that day.

Christen now knew why she said no to him that day.

She'd been waiting for the right person.

Someone who thought about her like this all the time, someone who made every day feel like the first. She'd been waiting for someone to change her mind about the concept of soulmates.

Who would've thought that person was Tobin Heath?

"Tobin—"

"Yeah?"

"I... I love you," Christen breathed. She looked at Tobin who couldn't hold back a genuine Tobin Heath smile — the smile that Christen had fallen in love with.

"That's... wow. That's the first time you've said that to me." Tobin's voice was quiet but she couldn't mask the happiness.

"Yeah, I-I know," Christen giggled, but repeated herself more firmly—

"I love you, Tobin Heath."

Without a word, Tobin leaned forward and kissed Christen. Deeply. Christen noticed her toes curling as Tobin's fingers made their way through her hair, and like always, she'd gasp as Tobin's hand made its way down the inside of her thigh.

But she'd gotten used to the pleasantly fluttery feeling inside.

Yes.

This is what love was supposed to feel like.

"Do you have any idea how long I've wanted to hear you say those words?" Tobin murmured into the crook of Christen's neck. 

"I-I'm... I'm sorry I made y-you wait," Christen managed to stammer through a pleasured sigh, her voice becoming heavy with desperation. She bit her lip to fight back a moan as Tobin kissed her where her jaw met her neck.

"Don't be sorry," Tobin whispered as she looked up at Christen.

"Why?"

"Because it was worth it." Suddenly, Tobin's hands slipped underneath Christen's shirt. Christen's breath caught in her throat as she felt Tobin's hands on her bare skin. "Because you're Christen Press. I wouldn't have waited for anyone else."

"Yeah?" Christen's voice had become syrupy and sultry.

"You're the only one for me, Christen."

So it was true.

They were soulmates.


	21. The Truth Runs Wild, Like a Tear Down a Cheek

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title lyric is from one of my all-time favorite Troye Sivan songs (Jesus, I've used a LOT of his song lyrics. I'm not surprised, though) called "HEAVEN" feat. Betty Who. It's a powerful song.
> 
> This chapter is loooong and ends a little *steamy* (for a couple reasons, hint hint). This is the longest chapter I've written since the single-digits and I hope that you all like that.
> 
> This occurs pre-Stacy's operation at the start of October 2018. It starts and ends with Tobin POV :))
> 
> I have nothing more to say, I'll let the chapter speak for itself. Let's get going now, shall we?

THEIR IMPROMPTU TRIP, FOR THE MOST PART, WAS SUCCESSFUL. Tobin was satisfied with the progress their relationship had made over the course of those few days she and Christen could spare. The two of them left for Portland once Christen's mother had been discharged from the hospital.

Christen was quiet on the trip back; not that she was talkative usually, but she was definitely a little less engaged than usual. Tobin was aware of this but thought it'd be best if she didn't mention it. There was no doubt Christen was going through a lot right now.

Christen's mother had late-stage brain cancer.

The doctor had advised her to get her estate in order.

She wouldn't last long.

Shockingly, Christen hadn't cried. One of Tobin's favorite things about Christen was that she cried so easily and she let everything move her. She was so in touch with her emotions and she just let them all out; in a way, Tobin thought that people who cried in public were stronger than those who couldn't bring themselves to.

But there were no tears from Christen, at least thus far.

The timid Christen Press she'd first gotten to know five years ago was growing up.

On the plane back, Christen fell asleep almost immediately; she'd been losing sleep over her mother's diagnosis. Yet as they touched down, she awoke and immediately turned to Tobin.

"Let's tell Jill at next camp. Promise?"

Tobin grinned. Finally, everyone would know.

That is, everyone except her family.

"Promise."

OCTOBER CAMP CAME AROUND SOONER THAN EXPECTED. Christen and Tobin had been staying with each other on-and-off over the course of the past month, but even Christen could tell she wasn't the same. She was still rattled over her mother.

She was thankful that Tobin was being patient with her. It was unexpected, considering how Tobin had treated her earlier on in Christen's national career, but Christen knew that this was who Tobin really was.

Christen decided to call Tobin on the phone while she packed for camp. They had yet to work out a script for their meeting with Jill, and neither of them quite knew what they should reveal and how much.

"Hey, angel." Christen's spirits lifted as she heard Tobin's voice through the phone.

(Christen had yet to give Tobin any nicknames that stuck, but "angel" and "beautiful" were by far Christen's favorites.)

"Hi, my love."

"Ooh, that's a new one. Trying it out?" Tobin teased.

"Yeah... I-I mean, I guess so."

"Well, I like it. Were you calling because you were packing and bored or were you calling to talk about Jill stuff?"

"Jill stuff. Tobin, when am I ever bored while packing? You _know_ I love packing."

"Yeah, but _I_ get bored while packing. I was thinking about calling you."

"That's very sweet."

"I know."

It was this back-and-forth that made her miss Tobin even more. Christen cleared her throat before she continued. "So, what are we going to say to Jill? And when do you think is a good time?"

"I think we should do it at the start. Like, day one or two. Get things out on the table."

Christen knew this was the right thing to do, but she hated confrontation if it didn't directly involve a soccer ball and a rival team. She groaned. "You make a point."

"What do you think we should even say? Like, 'Hey, Jill, just wanted to come forward to you because you're our HR department at our workplace...'" Tobin could always make Christen laugh.

"I guess something along the lines of, 'We know you aren't a fan of inter-team relationships, but we wanted to be transparent with you and tell you about our situation,' blah blah blah, all that good stuff. You know?"

"Jeez, Christen, how do you make _words_ sound like a professional email?"

"It's a gift," Christen rebounded. "But seriously, what do you think?"

"It sounds good. We're being upfront with her. What can she do, say no?"

Christen hadn't thought about the consequences. And frankly, she didn't want to. She didn't want to imagine Jill's reaction; what if she opposed it? What would they do then?

"Do you think I should tell her about my mom's situation?"

There was silence on the other line for a while. Finally, Tobin spoke: "That's a tough one. I mean, logistically — God forbid your mom has another incident and you have to be somewhere urgently — it would be best if Jill knew about your mom's condition beforehand, so that it wouldn't be a total shock for her, yeah?"

"Yeah," Christen sighed.

This might be harder than she thought.

REUNITING WITH TOBIN WAS ALMOST BITTERSWEET. Of course, they wanted to give each other a warmer welcome, but they were limited to a quick hug as Jill and Dawn were present. Christen and Tobin had agreed that after practice, Tobin would be the one to pull Jill aside for a conversation, but it would happen today. 

Christen noticed herself biting her nails on the shuttle to practice. She'd been a chronic nail biter all throughout middle and high school and the first half or so of college. Tobin put a reassuring hand on her thigh. "What's up? You still nervous?"

"I... yeah, I am. I'm just not sure what she's gonna say," Christen said. Christen _hated_ when she wasn't in control of everything.

"It'll be okay. I don't think she'll be pleased, but who cares? Ashlyn and Ali have been together almost 10 years."

"Tobin... Ali hasn't been called up in months."

This was true. Jill wasn't a fan of Ali and Ashlyn, and unfortunately, Ali took the brunt of Jill's disapproval, since the departure of Hope Solo left a goalie spot empty. Field players were almost expendable, and there were plenty of younger defenders who could easily take her place. Ali's extensive history with the USWNT didn't matter.

If Jill were to choose between Tobin and Christen to keep on, she would keep Tobin without a doubt; Tobin was the better player. 

This was why Christen was nervous.

"She keeps getting injured. I'm sure their relationship has nothing to do with it, trust me." 

Christen was still skeptical, but she kept it to herself.

She'd been keeping a lot to herself these days.

Surprisingly, though, despite being nerve-wracked on her way to the field, Christen had a remarkably good practice. Her first practices of camps in the past had usually been sluggish and overcome with jet lag, but today was different. She needed to prove herself to Jill. 

"Hey! Toby, Press... those passes are looking great," Jill called from the sidelines.

Christen smiled to herself, and she caught Tobin smiling, too.

Maybe it would be okay.

As the end of practice drew near, Christen stretched out with Mal and Kelley, and Tobin approached Jill.

"We're telling Jill today," Christen disclosed to Mal and Kelley excitedly. 

"Fuckin' A, Christen! I'm so happy for you guys," Kelley exclaimed. "I really, really am."

Mal was more sensitive to the situation. "You're worried about what Jill's going to say, aren't you." How was Mal always spot-on with these assumptions? 

"A little bit."

"Because of how it's been working out with Ashlyn and Ali?" Kelley asked.

"Oh, God, you're right, I haven't seen Ali in a _long_ time," Mal said. "You think Jill's going to cut you out of the picture?"

"I hope not, but it seems likely," Christen said, her voice sullen. 

"Don't kid yourself, Christen, you're an integral player to this team, our forward line-up. Jill won't do that to you," Kelley assured her. 

"Well, let's see how generous Jill is feeling today."

"RIGHT, SO WHAT DID YOU TWO WANT TO TALK TO ME ABOUT AGAIN?" Jill asked as the three of them sat down in her office.

"We've just got some... I don't know, news... to discuss," Tobin began tentatively. Christen had yet to say anything or even look at Jill. She was malfunctioning.

"Okay, go on," Jill coaxed.

Christen nodded at Tobin to continue: "Christen and I... we are, um, we're actually i-in a... relationship. We are... dating."

Jill rested her chin in her hand but didn't say anything, which made Christen feel obligated to pick up where Tobin left off.

"We know you're not one for dating within the team, but we're really serious about each other." Christen could feel Tobin smiling at her, which gave her all the courage she needed to keep going. "We just thought we should let you know." 

After a long silence, Jill finally spoke. "Well, I'm glad you told me."

Christen let out a sigh of relief, but choked on her own breath when Jill said—

"You two were bad at hiding it."

Christen and Tobin were stunned.

Jill knew? 

And she hadn't intervened?

"I-I..." Christen scrambled to find words to explain their situation. "Coach, we're so, so sorry we couldn't tell you earlier, we just... we couldn't find the right time—"

"It's okay, girls," Jill laughed. "I know when you start dating and you want to keep things a secret and all... believe me, I know that feeling. But I am truly very glad you told me. It's wonderful news." 

"You're not... you're not upset?" Tobin ventured.

"Ordinarily, I might be. But you two have come so far. The way you've been playing together in these past few months has just blown me away. Key word, 'together.' You two never, ever worked together until now, and it's looking really, really good. Girls, I'm... I'm actually quite proud of you. I believe in you two. You're responsible adults."

Christen felt happy tears rising in her eyes but blinked them away. This was stupid for her to cry over.

"There was actually something else we wanted to tell you, but, um, it's... it's not really for me to say. Christen, do you wanna?"

"Yeah, okay."

"I'm... I'm gonna go, is that okay with you?" 

Christen nodded.

Tobin patted her on the shoulder as she left and shut the door behind her.

Christen took a deep breath to calm herself down. 

"You remember my 100th cap game, right?"

"Of course," Jill laughed. "You were fantastic." 

"Thank you," Christen said. "Well, um... a couple days after, my mom... she had a seizure."

Jill's eyes widened. Christen went on.

"And, um, they got her to the hospital and all that, but... she's got stage four brain cancer."

"Jesus, Christen, that's awful. Wow. I-I had no idea. I'm so sorry," Jill said.

"She's getting an operation later this month, so we'll see about her progress, but regardless, operation or not, she's..." Christen could sense the tears brimming in her eyes again. "Regardless, she's not going to last much longer." 

"Chris, I don't even know what to say... if there's anything I could help you with — anything at all, really — I would be more than glad to help you. Thank you for letting me know."

"Yeah, no, of course."

"C'mere, give me a hug, Christen."

Christen smiled weakly. Hugs from Jill were always earned. 

"I'm so proud of you, Pressy, you know that? Your self-confidence has gotten so much better lately. It's been really nice to watch you grow up," Jill whispered.

"Jill, that's so nice of you, but I'm nearly 30!"

"I know," Jill laughed. "But you've grown up a lot since I first met you."

For some reason, this made Christen feel invincible.

Jill was noticing her.

"I haven't gotten around to telling the team yet," Christen said as she broke away from her coach. "And I'm not quite sure how I'm going to. I think I'll need a little more time."

"Of course, whatever you need," Jill reassured her. "This is your stuff to tell them, not mine. But, um, they... they know about Tobin, right?"

Christen's face reddened. "Um, yeah, they do." 

"Kelley and Sonnett being Kelley and Sonnett," Jill sighed. "What will I ever do with those two?"

RELIEF WASHED OVER TOBIN AS SHE SAW CHRISTEN GIVE HER A THUMBS-UP. Tobin was so glad and a little surprised that Jill had accepted them so easily. She hoped that neither she nor Christen would face any repercussions, but they knew it was the right thing to do to tell Jill.

Finally, Tobin saw that sparkle inside of Christen return. 

A weight had definitely been lifted off of her.

Not all of the weight, but some.

"I think I'm going to call a team meeting tonight after dinner," Christen said as she sidled up next to Tobin. "To tell them about my mom."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Jill said I should do whatever I felt was best."

"Go for it, then." Tobin was glad that Christen was becoming more sure of herself, seemingly by the day. Players only called team meetings to make special announcements: engagements, weddings, pregnancies. Christen's would be the first depressing announcement.

The first night of camp always had a nice dinner involved.

This would be the first time Christen and Tobin got ready together.

They weren't technically sharing a room, but they moved around with some of their other teammates so that their rooms would be next to each other's. And since Tobin didn't take nearly as much time getting ready as Christen — Tobin was next to clueless when it came to hair and makeup — she decided to go over to Christen's room.

Christen quickly pulled her inside just seconds after she'd knocked on the door.

"Christen, we're not sneaking around anymore," Tobin laughed. "You can ease off." 

Christen looked up at her with a devilish gleam in her eye.

Right now, it was clear she wasn't Tobin's angel.

"I don't know why," Christen began through a heavy breath—

"But to tell you the truth, I really, _really_ want to hook up with you in that shower. Right now. What do you say?"

How could Tobin resist such an offer?

IT DIDN'T TAKE LONG FOR TOBIN TO GET TO WORK ON CHRISTEN. In fact, it seemed as though Christen had been expecting a yes; the shower was already running. 

Their relationship was going on six months now, but every time Christen undressed in front of Tobin felt like the first. That sense of awe was the same each time and it made Tobin choke on her own breath. Christen must have been some sort of goddess in a past life. 

Tobin never felt more confident than when Christen's body was in her hands. She knew what Christen liked. It wasn't a hard code to crack. She knew Christen liked a little contrast: she liked nice words accompanied by physical roughness.

And Tobin wouldn't hesitate to deliver.

In no time, she had Christen's back against the shower wall. Making out proved to be harder with water flowing from above, but it didn't really matter.

Tobin loved everything about having sex with Christen. Her responses made Tobin's efforts all the more worthwhile. She knew Christen didn't like to make noise — she always bit her lip to keep quiet, which was inadvertently hot — but Tobin loved that Christen was bad at keeping it in. 

Without fail, Christen would always gasp sharply when Tobin started to use her fingers _there_. 

That was the best.

And this time was no different.

"God, you're _incredible_ ," Tobin murmured in Christen's ear. Tobin ran her hand down Christen's arm that was now covered in goosebumps. "You're doing so well, Christen."

That was enough to send Christen over the edge.

Tobin had to admit that Christen wasn't the best at reciprocating. She was good, sure, but she wasn't top-notch. Tobin wasn't upset by this; she knew her personal standards were higher to begin with she'd only ever been with women, and Christen was almost the opposite and had never been with a woman before.

But Christen's eagerness and enthusiasm made up for it. She was always so desperate to please Tobin, to make sure she was having a good time. It definitely enhanced the experience. And she always listened to direction and made adjustments accordingly. Christen was a fast learner.

"Oh, God, Christen, you're being so _good_ ," Tobin would moan, and she knew that Christen would eat it up.

She had to admit there was a certain hotness in predictability.

That's when Tobin knew it had turned from lust to love.


	22. Time Makes You Bolder, Even Children Get Older (And I'm Getting Older, Too)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title lyric of this chapter is from one of the saddest songs of all time: "Landslide" by Fleetwood Mac. A great song to cry to.
> 
> I apologize for the hiatus. The world is so crazy right now and I needed to step away from writing, but don't worry, I'll finish the fic as promised. I missed you all.
> 
> This chapter was very difficult to write. Over the course of writing this story, I've grown so attached to Christen, and having to write her experience the passing of her mother was very difficult for me. I hope you all can appreciate this chapter, I put a lot of thought and effort into creating it.
> 
> This chapter is a difficult read, so take a deep breath...

CHRISTEN COULDN'T CELEBRATE HER THIRTIETH BIRTHDAY WITH PEACE OF MIND. Her mother's operation had gone wrong, far more wrong than anyone could've ever expected—

Stacy had a stroke during her operation which had left her paralyzed.

Most of her mental facilities were gone; she couldn't even speak anymore.

She had been doing chemo religiously but to no avail.

This was the beginning of the end.

This year was the first Christmas-Birthday-New Year's mashup she'd spent with Tobin. Christen's birthday was the 29th of December, smack in the middle between Christmas and New Year's. She'd hated it when she was a kid because she was never able to have birthday parties since it was always winter break.

But now, as an adult, she realized how important it was to spend the holidays with family.

After all, it could've very well been her last Christmas, birthday, and New Year's with her mother.

Tobin had gotten her a lovely birthday gift, this gorgeous diamond necklace. It wasn't flashy or anything, just a small stone on a silvery chain, but Christen _loved_ it. Tobin always claimed she didn't have a good eye for fashion or design, but this necklace was perfect; it was what every girl dreamed about.

(For her Christmas gift — yes, Tobin had gotten her _two_ big gifts, just as Christen had told her _not_ to do — Tobin got them tickets to Hamilton on Broadway.)

Christen felt bad that Tobin wasn't spending her holidays with her family — she knew how big of a deal Christmas was to her and the Heaths — but Tobin insisted that it was fine, even though they'd spent Thanksgiving with Christen's family, too. 

"I haven't spent Thanksgiving with my family in, like, more than ten years, it's not a big deal for them or me," Tobin reasoned. "And what's one Christmas without me? Christen, it's important we spend time with your mom now."

Tobin was being a really good sport about this.

But back at home in Portland (yes, Christen had moved in with Tobin, no surprise there), Christen began to put the pressure on a little bit.

"I wanna meet the Heaths," Christen said. "I want to meet your sisters and your brother and your parents. You know my family so well now it's like you're one of us. I just want the same thing with your family."

"That's very nice of you," Tobin replied as she kissed Christen on the top of her head, "but I don't think my parents will like you a lot. I mean, it's totally not about you at all, on, you know, a personal level, it's—"

"Because I'm a woman." 

Tobin grimaced. "Yeah. I-I'm sorry, Chris, I really am."

"Don't apologize for them," Christen said, holding Tobin's face in her hands, "I'm sure I'll get to meet them soon enough. Whenever you're ready."

"How about Easter?" Tobin suggested out of nowhere. Christen loved Tobin's total spontaneity. That was one of the things about Tobin that kept Christen on her toes.

"Easter? Isn't that, like, one of the most important ones for you all?"

"I mean, yeah, it is _the_ most important one, but... you're right, they have to meet you sometime. And we all get together for Easter."

"If you're sure, I'm totally up for it."

"It's a deal, then."

JANUARY 22 WAS A DAY LIKE NO OTHER. If Christen had thought December was bad, January was far worse. The whole team now knew about her mother — teammates, staff, all of them — and they were understanding as they warmed up early in the afternoon and Christen was missing all her shots.

It made Christen feel worse that no one was saying anything. Normally, if Christen were playing this bad at warm-ups, Jill would've yelled at her by now. It was strange how she hadn't said anything yet. 

Her mother wasn't the only thing on her mind—

She was playing Jenni today.

Jenni Hermoso.

Jenni was the first woman who made Christen feel something different.

Sure, she'd kissed girls in college like Kelley had said, but there was something about Jenni that made Christen feel so warm inside. Of course, back then, she'd had Max to suppress those feelings, but there had always been something about her that Christen could never forget.

It seemed her mother was right; she _did_ have a thing for Jenni Hermoso.

But that was in the past.

She was Tobin's now, and she wouldn't have it any other way.

Tobin was also highly alert to Jenni's presence; she made a point to narrow her eyes at her as the Spanish team took the bench. Christen thought it was funny that Tobin was feeling jealous of Jenni — hell, Jenni had a husband and a daughter, Tobin had nothing to worry about — and it made Christen feel good that Tobin still wanted her this bad.

She was excited to see how bad of a time Tobin would give Jenni on the field.

But it was rather anticlimactic. A whole half and the score was still 0-0.

"I tried, babes, I tried," Tobin complained through a heavy breath as she reached Christen who was waiting for her on the sidelines. "Did you see me? I took three shots. Three."

"I know, I saw. Their keeper is hard to crack."

"And I had those two sweet nutmegs. You saw 'em, right?" This childlike excitement that Tobin always felt for football was one of the things that made Christen fall in love with her because Christen always felt the same.

"Of course I did. Who else would I be watching instead of the great Tobin Heath, our Nutmeg Queen?"

Tobin smiled ruefully. She couldn't resist smiling when Christen brought up her royal title like that, even if she was playing a bad game.

Christen was finally subbed in for Pinoe at the start of the second half. She'd been bouncing her legs up and down on the sidelines anxiously for a good half hour now. Unfortunately, she and Tobin were both wings, so they weren't playing right next to each other, but they were still on at the same time, which was enough for Christen.

Facing Jenni was difficult.

At the start of the game, Christen had reassured herself that she had no residual feelings for her. But now that Christen was up on the field, she wasn't so sure anymore, and her heart began to beat a little bit faster. 

But she looked over to Tobin's face and she knew that she only had eyes for Tobin.

"You got this, Christen," Jill reassured as she rubbed her shoulder. They were waiting for Megan to come back from the field to sub in. "You can do this."

Christen bolted onto the field. That was her thing, running real fast, and she liked it when everyone knew. She felt Tobin's smile on her as she ran to her position.

And soon enough, with a solid pass from Rose, Christen dribbled up the field. She felt a Spanish player swipe for her jersey, but Christen quickly shook her off and kept pushing. She would score. She would do this.

And she did.

Like a miracle, Christen took a hard shot at the top right corner, the weakest area for her. She'd always experienced the most error at the top right corner.

To her utter surprise, she made it.

Tobin was the first to hug her. Tobin was not usually the fastest person on the team — that was Christen, of course, and Tobin was a ways away — but whenever Christen scored, Tobin always made it a point to be the first to congratulate her. And, of course, Christen would reciprocate.

"That was so good, angel," Tobin breathed into Christen's ear as they hugged, and the hairs on the back of Christen's neck stood up immediately. Tobin knew what she was doing. Christen looked over to Jenni, who gave a little wave. 

Jenni wouldn't let this go.

And sure enough, about a minute after Tobin was called off for Jess, Jenni made a hard shot. 

Christen noticed that Jenni's shots were better than she'd remembered.

Naeher just managed to push the ball away to the sides with her fingertips.

It was close.

Christen was glad that Naeher was tall, otherwise, she wouldn't have reached it.

Final score: 1-0, USA, with Christen Press having scored the sole goal in the 54th minute.

It was a good game, the best in a while.

But Christen had awful news waiting for her when she got off the field.

"Christen," Jill called, "your phone's been ringing for about 10 minutes straight now. It's from your father. It seems urgent."

Christen's throat tightened. This couldn't be good. She dashed over to her chair to grab her phone.

It was still ringing. She'd had almost 20 missed calls from her father now.

"Hello, Christen?" Her father's voice was shaky. Christen braced for impact.

"Yeah, hi, Dad. I was just playing. What's going on?"

Christen didn't even have a chance to tell her father that she'd scored before he told her—

"Mom... Mom has a brain aneurysm. Come home, Christen. We... we need you to come home so we can say goodbye together."

NORMALLY, PACKING WAS FUN FOR CHRISTEN. She was an organizing connoisseur, and packing was one of her favorite things to do.

Tonight was different.

As soon as she made it up to her room, she began to stuff her bags with reckless abandon. She was hysterical. Christen picked up all her clothes — dirty and clean, it didn't matter anymore — and just threw them in the bag and zipped them away. Tears ran down the sides of her face and she wiped them away angrily.

Why was her mother being taken from her so soon?

"Is there anything I can get for you?" Tobin asked in a quiet voice. "Can I get you some tea or something?"

"I'm really sorry, Tobin," Christen replied in an exhausted tone, "but I think it'd be best if I were alone for the night."

"Don't worry, I-I understand. I... I guess I'll see you tomorrow morning then."

"Thank you for this."

"No, it's no problem, really."

Christen held onto Tobin's wrist and looked her in the eyes. "No, really, I mean it. Thank you."

"I'll be praying for your mom tonight."

A smile flashed across Christen's face as Tobin closed the door behind her.

Tobin was too good for this world.

Her phone rang again. It was Jill this time, though. Christen cleared her throat before she picked up—

"Hi, Jill."

"Hey, Christen, how are you doing? You hanging in there?"

"I guess you could say that."

"Listen. I pulled a few strings with a few people, and long story short, I got you and Tobin tickets from Madrid to Heathrow to LAX. It was the best I could do on such short notice — I don't think they even do non-stop flights from Spain to L.A. — but I wanted to make sure I could get you and Tobin home as quickly as possible." 

Jill's words hung in the air. Christen was so thankful she didn't even know how to respond.

"Jill, I... I have no words. I can't even begin to express how thankful I am for this. I mean, wow. I will never forget this as long as I live."

"Pressy, I would've done it for any of you girls."

As Christen hung up the phone, she let everything sink in. How her mother was really not coming back, she really wouldn't recover. Christen knew her mother's recovery was a pipe dream from the start, but now that there was almost nothing left of her mother, it felt real.

Christen thought about what her mother might've looked like, lying lifeless in the hospital bed with dozens of tubes and wires and machines hooked up to her, just managing to sustain her fragile life. She was brain dead at this point — there was nothing going on up there, that was made clear by her father — but by the grace of God and technology, her heart was still beating.

Christen couldn't believe this heartbeat was the same as the one that had given her life over 30 years ago, her and her sisters. It was true; Christen owed everything to her mother.

It was her mother who sacrificed hours in the car and weekends to Christen's games, who picked her up when she was down, who urged her to take a breath and calm down when it was midnight and Christen was still taking shots in the backyard. _That_ was her mother.

Christen knew that it scientifically wasn't possible, but she wondered if her mother would recognize her in this state she was in.

She fell asleep thinking of her mother's face, how alive she'd always looked.

ALTHOUGH JILL HAD TRIED HER BEST, she couldn't manage to snag two seats that were next to each other on the plane ride from Heathrow to LAX. Christen and Tobin didn't mind, though; she'd already done more than enough. No one cared like Jill.

It was around 10 in the morning when their plane from London touched down in Los Angeles, but to Tobin and Christen it felt like about 7pm. Despite the circumstances, Christen relished the feeling of the California breeze blowing through her hair as she waited for a cab. The best part about coming home to L.A. was feeling the warmth of the sun on her skin.

The cab ride was solemn. Christen knew what was approaching, and she dreaded every second of the ride, wishing each second were the one before it so that she wouldn't have to face her mother.

But when they arrived at the hospital, Christen ran straight to the room. She didn't have time to wait for elevators; she took the stairs.

Christen ran faster than she'd ever remembered running. Faster than she ever had in any game. She couldn't wait to see her mother any longer.

When Christen saw her, she broke down.

Her mother's skin was sickly and pale and she looked small; Christen promised herself she wouldn't remember her mother with this image, this awful image. Whatever Christen had thought her mother would've looked like in the hospital bed, this was about a hundred times worse.

Because right now, it was real.

But what Christen hated the most about this moment was that she could hear it. All those machines making so much noise, together forming a sickening chorus of beeps and pings and whatnot, cluttering Christen's thoughts. 

"Whatever you have to say to her," Christen's father said softly, "now's a good a time as any."

Christen took a seat at her mother's bedside and held her hand. Christen was taken aback by the feeling; it was warm, but limp. Christen tried to push the thoughts of her mother's death away as she squeezed her mother's hand in hers and pretended her mother was squeezing back.

And just a few minutes later, the doctor came in with a tiny vial and a syringe on a metal tray.

Morphine.

It was crazy how such a seemingly insignificant amount of liquid could kill a person. How it took just a small fraction of a gram to take someone out. 

"It's time," reported the doctor. "Are you all ready?"

Everyone nodded quietly. They couldn't keep doing this to Stacy, after all she'd fought through for them.

They had to let her go.

They all knew she would've done the same.

Christen sucked in a breath as she watched the doctor inject the morphine into her mother's IV tube.

For a few seconds, everything was perfectly still — the morphine had yet to run its course through Stacy's body — and it was almost peaceful. Christen was somehow able to force away all the noise and just looked at her mother's face. It seemed as though any moment her mother could open her eyes and smile at her. It was though time had stopped.

This fantasy didn't last long.

Quickly, all the machines erupted in a stressed cacophony of noise, and Christen held onto her mother's hand even tighter, even though she knew there was no use. She began to sob as she watched the numbers on her mother's heart monitor drop off and reach zero.

She heard the flatline.

It was done.

Her mother was gone.


	23. Sweet Creature, You Bring Me Home (We Don't Know Where We're Going, but We Know Where We Belong)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final title lyrics are from Harry Styles' "Sweet Creature." I don't know, I'm still kind of a bigger HS1 fan, but I love LOVE Fine Line too. Ugh, I love him to death. Also, this fic is named after a Harry lyric, so it was only right...
> 
> Here we are, everybody. Last chapter.
> 
> (One final note: the first part of this chapter occurs in late April 2019 and the second part occurs in late July 2019, just a couple weeks after the ladies won the 2019 Women's World Cup, because they're badasses.)
> 
> I don't want to give anything away, so all I'll say is... I think you'll like this one a lot.
> 
> So for the last time, I ask you... let's get going, shall we?

GOING HOME WAS RARE FOR TOBIN. Since her childhood, she'd been focused on working hard and getting out of New Jersey — she didn't want to be like all the other people in her town, who were born, raised, and died in Morristown.

When she was a teenager she vowed she wasn't going to be like them, she wasn't going to be another statistic.

It didn't take even 20 years for her dream to come true.

Even though she'd never wanted a life in Morristown, being at home was always comforting. The same wide, vacant roads lined with the same quaint brick houses greeted her each time she came back, and everything always looked the same, just as it had 10, 20 years earlier.

That was Morristown.

Christen had never experienced the East Coast Suburb life; she'd lived in California all her life, went to Stanford, and had played in exotic places like Sweden, Chicago, and Salt Lake City, to name a few. Tobin was pleased by Christen's fascination at the sight of colonial-style homes and white picket fences, things that had seemed so mundane to Tobin all her life.

"This," Christen said, "This is what small-town America is. It's just lovely." It was so different from the Mediterranean-style homes and sunshine that Christen had grown up with.

"Here we are, right at the corner of the street," Tobin announced. The Heaths' home was modest, with the same red brick facade that seemingly all the other houses within a five-mile radius shared. The trees in the front yard looked bigger than she'd last remembered, but other than that, it was all the same.

It was home.

Tobin felt uneasy as she pulled into the driveway. She was nervous about ruining her family's Easter weekend. It was a likely possibility with this Christen bombshell.

But Christen seemed excited. Tobin looked to her right and she saw Christen grinning. She'd gotten dressed up, even though Easter was the following day. But Tobin liked it when she got dressed up, because it meant that she was really looking forward to whatever occasion was ahead of her, and she seemed so genuinely happy. 

It was the first real Christen smile she'd seen for a long time.

Understandably, her mother's death had taken quite a toll.

It took some time before Christen became herself again.

"Should... should we g-go inside?" Tobin offered through a stutter as she turned the car off.

She was nervous. She stuttered when she was nervous.

Christen knew this about Tobin. "Don't be nervous. If you need to take a minute, just... take a minute, and breathe. You can do this. I believe in you," she comforted, rubbing Tobin's arm.

Thankfully, just her parents were home when they walked into the house. Tobin expected her older brother and his family, too — she was eager to see her nieces and nephews — but it was apparent that they were coming just for the holiday.

"Oh, Toby, we've missed you so much," said her mother as she wrapped her in a hug. "We're so glad you came this weekend."

"And who's this here?" her father asked.

"This is my, er, my... _friend_... Christen. I wanted her to meet you guys." Tobin cringed as Christen shook hands with her parents; she didn't like lying to them.

"I'm Cindy, and this is my husband Jeff. We're very glad to have you, Christen." Tobin's mother smiled at Christen warmly. It was nice when her mother was hospitable.

"I think we've seen you on TV before, do you play with Tobin?" her father wondered aloud.

Christen giggled. "Yes, I do."

"Dad, come on, she's been on the national team for, what, five years now? I'm sure you've seen her play."

"There's so many of you, I can't keep you all straight, you know that. You've probably had 50 different teammates." He turned to Christen. "Frankly, I only know Tobin and that Horan girl because she plays for Portland, too. I've got to tell you, Christen, I'm terrible with names and faces."

"He is," Tobin's mother added. "By the way, Jeff, her name is Lindsey. Lindsey Horan."

"Oh, that's right! That's it!"

Her parents were still joking around.

It was clear they hadn't caught on yet.

Tobin's anxiety didn't subside.

"Well, should we give you the tour, then, Christen?" Jeff offered.

"I would love that."

Tobin followed her parents and Christen warily around the house, hoping that there were no embarrassing family photos lying around the house that Christen would catch sight of. But it was nice to see how taken Christen was with the house; she told Tobin's parents about how she grew up in California.

"Here's T's room," Cindy said. Tobin couldn't bear to see Christen's reaction; she thought Christen might laugh out loud.

Her room was very different from Christen's childhood room or even their current apartment. The walls were slate gray and above her bed hung an American flag. The sheets were gray-and-white plaid with thin pinkish stripes and on a chair in the corner lay a fleece UNC throw blanket. The interior decor was nothing short of puzzling.

But the worst part were the posters. 

And there were dozens of them.

Too many posters of Mia Hamm. One from her UNC days and two from her WNT days, but it was still three too many for Tobin. There was Joy Fawcett and Kristine Lilly, Julie Foudy and Brandi Chastain. There were group pictures, too: World Cup 1999 and 2003, Olympics 1996, 2000, and 2004.

"Lotta posters," Christen noted as she looked at them, fascinated. Tobin was excited by this; she knew if she'd brought any other girl home they probably wouldn't have taken a second look at any of the posters, but the women that were taped to Tobin's walls _meant_ something to Christen.

 _That_ was why Christen being a footballer was the best. She wouldn't be weirded out by the late-nineties/early-thousands women's soccer memorabilia.

"Where are her trophies?" Christen asked all of a sudden.

"Oh, we've got them down in the living room," Jeff supplied. "They're all right there on the fireplace. You wanna check 'em out?"

"Of course!"

Christen was being competitive, as usual, masked by curiosity. And Tobin always thought it was the cutest.

Tobin stayed at Christen's heels as they tracked Tobin's parents back downstairs to the living room. "Here they are. Feast your eyes, Christen."

All three of the trophies from Tobin's NCAA titles (USC had snagged it from them in 2007, unfortunately) and her two Olympic gold medals were there, along with her 2015 World Cup gold and her 2011 World Cup silver. And of course, there were plenty of others.

Tobin beamed as she heard Christen counting quietly to herself. After a minute, Christen whispered in her ear, "I have more."

"Oh, yeah, but do you have a gold medal? What about three?"

"Hey, where's your Heismann? Oh, wait, that's right, you don't have one," Christen quietly fought back through a sneaky little grin.

Tobin was glad she'd brought Christen home.

There wasn't anyone else like her in the whole world, no one who could make her feel this way.

BUT NOW CAME THE HARD PART. Christen realized that they had forgot their homecoming gift — a bottle of wine — in the car, so Tobin took this as her chance to come clean with her parents.

Once Tobin heard the front door close, she went in.

"Okay, guys, I just have to make something clear. Christen, well, um... Christen is... she's actually my, uh, my girlfriend."

Her parents said nothing.

"I just... I needed you guys to know that." Tobin could barely breathe, and she wasn't speaking all that fast.

There was a long silence.

"Well," her mother began, "she's quite the catch. And she seems very sweet."

"We knew, Toby," her father confessed through a sigh. "We knew when you stumbled on your words when you were introducing us."

Tobin _hated_ that she had such an obvious tell.

"Are... are you... are you mad at me?" Tobin asked meekly.

"Well, I wouldn't say 'mad' is the right way to put it," said her mother. "Just... this is going to take some adjusting to."

"I understand. All I ask is that you please treat Christen exactly as you were, okay?"

"Of course. Is she the friend you were staying with over Christmas?"

"Um, yeah. I'm sorry I couldn't come home. Her mother was really ill over the holidays."

"Oh, wow. That's... that's okay then, I totally understand. So her family knows then."

As Tobin heard the door opening again, she quietly said to her parents, "Christen's mother actually passed away in late January."

They nodded without a word.

"I'm back!" Christen announced as she breezed through the kitchen door.

"Here, Christen, I'll get that. Jeff, could you grab the bottle opener?"

Tobin let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.

Finally, a huge weight had been lifted off of her.

Life was good.

* * *

MAYBE GOING TO MEXICO IN LATE JULY WASN'T THE BEST IDEA. Immediately after stepping off the plane, Christen was hit with an overwhelming wave of humidity. But she really hoped that she and Tobin wouldn't get recognized in the Customs line.

They managed to get through without incident.

It was a dream.

Everything had felt like a dream since winning her second World Cup.

It was the best tournament of her career so far, and Christen could just feel that there was more greatness in store for her and Tobin and the rest of the team. She was beyond prepared and so excited for Tokyo 2020.

Of course, she'd been thinking of her mother almost the whole time. Every goal she scored, it was for her. She knew her mother was watching her, and she could sense her mother's presence with her at every game. It was indescribable. 

This was Tobin and Christen's first destination vacation, just the two of them. They'd gone back and forth from New Jersey to Utah to Los Angeles to Portland, but they'd never traveled together internationally for anything except football.

With the little Spanish she knew, Christen managed to ask someone at the airport where they could hail a taxi.

"Learned that from Jenni Hermoso, didn't you?" Tobin teased.

"Shut it, Heath. Be glad one of us know how to get around here."

"I am," Tobin whispered. "Because you speaking Spanish is hot."

Christen's insides melted.

Whenever Tobin talked to her like that, Christen went crazy.

Christen and Tobin sat next to each other in the backseat and held hands for the entire duration of the ride. She wasn't a huge fan of travel, ironically — airports freaked her out, all the crowds and germs and confusion — but she was so happy to finally take a well-deserved break. Christen looked out the window and saw palm trees lining the highway and she was immediately reminded of being in L.A. and she relaxed.

Cancún was gorgeous. Christen had only ever been to Mexico City before a couple times — whenever the WNT played in Mexico, which wasn't too often — but Cancún was different. It was a beautiful beachy paradise. Despite the language barrier, Christen could almost imagine living there.

They would be staying in Mexico for six nights, and they split the bill between them, three each. Tobin insisted on paying for all of it, but Christen had insisted that she take on half the expenses, otherwise she'd feel guilty, and Tobin obliged.

But Christen didn't know what kind of room they were getting. 

Turns out, Tobin had a few surprises in store for Christen—

They'd gotten a master suite.

And when they got to the room, there was a bottle in a bucket of ice and a bouquet of flowers addressed to Christen.

God, why was Christen such a sucker for romantic gestures?

Christen picked up the bottle and examined it. "I figured you'd had enough alcohol for the time being," Tobin explained, "so I got some of your favorite mineral water instead."

"That's very sweet," Christen said, "but who says I've had enough alcohol?" There was a glimmer of mischief in her eyes. Tobin laughed. She knew Christen's trigger-word was "tequila."

Nonetheless, they popped open the bottle and drank out of champagne flutes as they stood on the balcony of their room that overlooked the white sand beach. "I'm so excited to do some meditation out here, and some yoga on the beach," Christen gushed. 

"So you like it?"

"I _love_ it. We've been here an hour and I already don't want to leave." Christen leaned over to put her head on Tobin's shoulder — which was always awkward because Christen was a little taller than Tobin — but regardless, Tobin always pulled her in closer and wrapped her arm around Christen.

Christen never felt safer than when Tobin's arm was around her.

AFTER DINNER, THEY IMMEDIATELY CRASHED BACK AT THEIR HOTEL ROOM. For one thing, Christen was accustomed to going to bed early — she always fell asleep first, and quickly at that — but the two of them were exhausted from their day of travel.

Christen was pleased to see that Tobin had really gone through with her plans and made an effort to get up early that morning. Tobin was _not_ a morning person in any sense of the term, but she'd promised Christen that she'd do yoga on the beach at sunrise.

"Good morning, my love," Christen coaxed as she lightly pushed Tobin to get her to wake up. "Get up, the sun doesn't wait for anyone!"

"I know, I know," Tobin groaned. "Jeez, how are you already ready to go?"

"I don't know, it's a talent of mine, maybe," Christen joked. "And I've packed us a bag and everything. I've got sunscreen for when the sun comes out, water bottles, granola—"

"Okay, I'm up. Let me get dressed real fast."

As they left the room, Tobin picked up the bag from Christen. "Oh, wait, I forgot my sunglasses in the room. You can go get the elevator, I'll be two seconds."

Christen noticed that there was a bounce in her step as she made her way down the halls. Even though it was five in the morning, Christen couldn't resist sunrise yoga. It was one of her all-time favorite things to do.

And doing it with her favorite person in the world made it even better.

It didn't take long for Tobin to catch up with Christen, and they quickly found a spot on the beach. There was no one else out, obviously — it was still dark outside and surprisingly, the beach wasn't littered with surfers today — so Christen and Tobin could enjoy each other as they pleased.

Christen loved watching Tobin follow her lead as they went through Christen's yoga routine. Christen didn't often take the reins in their relationship, but it was always fun when she did. She thought it was cute how Tobin cluelessly imitated her poses. Tobin wasn't nearly as big of a yoga girl. 

Gradually, before they knew it, the sun began to peek out from the horizon, and the sky morphed into a soft mix of oranges and reds and pinks and purples that bled into each other behind fluffy clouds. Christen didn't remember the last time she'd seen such a breathtaking sunrise.

For the first time in a while, everything felt right.

She was doing yoga on the beach with the love of her life, and together they could take in this beautiful sunrise. There was a gentle, salty ocean breeze that made itself known to Christen and Tobin every few minutes, and the temperature was just right: it hadn't become hot outside yet and the sand still felt cool beneath her feet.

Christen took a deep breath and took a note of how everything felt around her.

She didn't want to forget it.

She promised herself that she wouldn't.

"What do you think, angel?" Tobin asked, her voice quiet and rough. It seemed she hadn't quite waken up still. "How are you feeling right now?"

"Perfect," Christen replied absently. She was still taking everything in. She turned to Tobin who was standing with her hands behind her back.

"Christen," Tobin began slowly, "I'm... I'm gonna say my piece and you can't interrupt me, okay?"

Christen was confused. "Oh, um... okay. Go for it."

Tobin took a deep breath and spoke—

"Christen, things haven't been the same for me since the first day I saw you. I'd never believed in any of that 'love at first sight' B.S. before, but, I mean, you surprised me. You always do, Christen. You always manage to surprise me."

"For a long time, you puzzled me. You were so good at all the things I wasn't. First, I noticed your speed — Christen, if there's one thing I know for sure, it's that I'll never be as fast as you — but then, when you spent more time with the team, I noticed how good-natured you were. You have this ability to welcome anyone and everyone with open arms, and you don't hold grudges, and you have this remarkable forgiveness. To this day, I still wonder how you do it."

"But time went on and things changed. Yes, I thought you were gorgeous the first time we met, but over time, the more your character revealed itself — the more you came out of your little shy shell — I really fell in love with you. Everything about you, inside and out. And I fell hard. You were driving me crazy and you didn't even know it. And it hurt. For so long, I was just waiting for you to see me, waiting for you to notice me."

"I still feel awful for how I treated you all that time. It... it was childish and stupid and it's because I don't have a proper way to process my emotions other than... football. And nutmegs. Mostly nutmegs." Christen laughed. "But you were patient. You didn't get mad at me — not to my face, at least — and you never said anything to anyone. And it surprised me. But it really taught me that two wrongs don't make a right. And I am still so, so sorry."

"The last couple of years with you have been this crazy emotional journey. I'm sure you know that very well. You didn't know what you wanted, and I had to be okay with that, and I wasn't even okay with myself. It was so hard, waiting for you, but I did it so I could be more like you. To have that patience, that composure that you have. And I'm so happy I did."

"What I'm trying to say here is, Christen... I love you. I've loved you for five years, and I'll love you for another fifty... and many more. You've helped me grow emotionally, something I didn't even think I had the capacity for. You were always there for me even when I wasn't there for you. And for that—"

Tobin got down on one knee.

Happy tears began to swell in Christen's eyes.

"I'm making a promise to you. From this day forward, I swear on my life that I will always be there for you. Morning, night, rain or shine, I'm in your corner. Christen, I want to spend every day with you for the rest of my life, making you happy, and... and keeping this promise." 

"Christen Press... there isn't a world in which I deserve you, but I would be so, _so_ honored... if I could have you as my wife."

Sunlight bounced off the perfect stone in the ring.

Christen couldn't hear or feel anything anymore; all she could do was smile, gaze into Tobin's earnest brown eyes and say—

"Yes."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank everybody who read this story.
> 
> Everyone who clicked, who scrolled. Everyone who commented, the good and the bad, the positive and the negative.
> 
> These past three months (wow, anyone else noticed the first chapter was posted on Jan 15 and the last one Apr 15? Just me? Okay.) have been a crazy rollercoaster. So much research, lots of late nights at the computer, but it was all so worth it, because...
> 
> I've realized that there is nothing more powerful than being able to write and make people feel things.
> 
> It makes me so happy to know that my writing makes you all think and feel. It's still so crazy to me. For your continued support from way back then to now, I have no words. I appreciate you endlessly.
> 
> With that, I've got to end it here. But stick around, because I promise I'll be back someday...
> 
> Xoxo,  
> dumpling23


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